Blood Moon
by Sydney Alexis
Summary: Tom is out for venegence after his family is brutally murdered. Along the way he befriends an extraordinary woman who helps him on his journey. WIP
1. Part I

Blood Moon Sydney Alexis 

* * *

My mother told me once that only evil comes during the blood moon. I wish I had listened to her; it would have afforded me a lifetime of pain and suffering. My journey began so innocently though that I thought nothing of it at the time... 

I was traveling through the Mycanae province at the northernmost region of His Majesty's land to return home. Nearly a year had passed since I last saw my family. Little Miral had just celebrated her fifth birthday, and I had a son, Johnathan, whom I had never seen. My wife had assured me that he would be a strong man if the power with which he cried was any indication. She had further stated that, unlike her and my daughter, Johnathan had tufts of blond hair like I. 

I still carry my wife's letters that she sent to me during my time away from her. Though the words have all been ingrained in my memory, I carry them in my coat pocket because they still bare her scent, but I digress...

Atreus, my home village, was a small agrarian village that spanned the length of a valley. The entire community could clearly be seen by any of the hills around its parameter. It's location made it an excellent spot for raising animals and crops but was strategically venerable. 

Even before my squire, Harold, and I crested the last incline, I could see gray smoke rising from the valley. Being that it was the tenth month, I put little concern into it. October had traditionally been the month to slaughter hogs. The flesh of which were burned to make cracklings. Those fire pits would burn well on into the night, as this was a major export to outlying areas. The smell of burning fat was also a tell tale sign.

"Sir, are you sure that your family will not mind taking me as a guest? His Majesty was kind enough to give me enough gold pieces to stay in the local inn," my squire said, turning towards me.

"Nonsense, Harry, my wife will love you, and I am sure the children will enjoy your stories. Just be sure to keep them clean..." I said, my voice trailing off. In the length of our short conversation, we had reached the point were I could see Atreus- or rather- what was left of it.

I felt a great uneasiness rise within me... an inner sickness that stays with me to this day when I recall the carnage I witnessed in those hours. I dug my heels into the side of my horse and rode her hard into that valley. My mind so focused on praying to the Almighty that I couldn't hear any of Harry's comments. The beast that I rode was one of the king's finest- a gift of a true thoroughbred for services rendered. Looking back, I wish he had given me an old mare that would have lengthed the journey long enough that I would have been called back to arms. Anything to keep me from witnessing what I did.

The closer I came to Atreus the more prevalent the remains of a massacre became. Most of the main paths were littered with bodies in a puddle of their own blood. Bodies that were once friends and neighbors that I had grown up with. Some houses were burned to the ground. The remnants of which were still smoldering. But the worst...the most despicable of all the acts was what was being done to the bodies. They were quartered, skewered, placed on the fire pits, and left to roast like animals. The sight turned made my stomach turn.

Seeing that a handful of soldiers were still there, I drew my sword high and charged them. I ran three through on my first pass, and then chased those that fled like cowards towards the hill. They were no match for my steed on an uphill climb. Focusing on one of the murderers, I dismounted and placed the blade of my sword against the ensnared man's throat. Blood rage had taken over. My respiration was labored, my heart beating as if in battle, and the only thought in my mind was to kill every last one of them.

"Who ordered you to do this?" 

The man at my feet began to tremble and whimper like a small child. "Do...don't kill me milord. I was only acting under orders."

"Whose orders?" I repeated, grinding my teeth together. I could feel myself growing dangerously impatient.

"Crycus," the man breathed.

My mind whirled as it made the connection. I knew of only one man named Crycus. He had been my best friend as a child, but had disappeared not long before I was sent to work as a page on His Majesty's castle. Surely he wouldn't do anything like this? 

"Where is his camp?"

A brief pause followed. The man was struggling between loyalty to his master and wanting to live. I pressed the issue or should I say blade into the top layer of skin. Feeling blood tricking down his neck was enough to jog his memory.

"He sent a small band of us from his base in from Chaldea. He didn't actually come himself."

"Thank you," I said, smiling at the helpless man. Then, in the first act of rage I'd ever had, I pierced through flesh of his neck and sliced through to the main artery. I watched, disconnected from my self, as the sticky liquid poured out onto the crimson soaked grass below. 

I felt a hand on my shoulder, but I didn't turn to see who it was. "Sir, I caught the last of the men. What shall I do with them?"

"Kill them. Collect the villagers and bury them." I said, leaving the pale gray body before me and walking towards my house in the distance.

"But Sir, they surrendered," Harry said, running in front of me. I altered my path to avoid him. He, in turn, began walking at my side.

"Don't question me. Just do it."

"Yes, Sir," Harry said. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry for your loss."

I stopped briefly and saw a reflection of my younger self in his eyes. They still held innocence- the same one that I had lost that morning and would never regain. That morning, I lost my family, my god, and my country, but I didn't know the latter just yet.

¤ 

The outside of my home was exactly as I remembered it being. Timber connected by pegs, a thatch roof, small flowerpots with daisies growing in them, toys scattered around the parameter. The door though...an ominous bloody handprint was dried onto the wood frame just above the door latch. I felt an unfamiliar lump in my throat. My intuition was screaming at me not to enter, but I had to know. With trembling fingers I reached for the latch and lifted it up. The door swung open before me. 

Nothing in my life could have ever possibly prepared me for what I saw when I stepped inside. I waited momentarily for my eyes to adjust to the new amount of light in the room. The first thing that I noticed was the floor boards; they were all soaked through with blood. The main kitchen table, right near the entrance, was overturned. Chairs, pots, pans, and blankets were strewn about the room. I stepped around them cautiously, my sword drawn. 

My first stop was my children's bedroom. It was just to the right of the main living area. Pushing the door opened with one hand while preparing for an attack with my body, I was greeted by the sight of a small bundle hidden under a blood soaked blanket. With the point of my sword, I lifted the fabric off and tossed it aside. My eyes came to rest upon my daughter's ridged body. Her eyes were frozen wide with terror. Her hands clutching the rosary I had brought her for her first communion. A jagged wound was evident on her chest. I took no time to morn; I still had two people to account for. 

After covering my daughter again, I went to the crib, noting that both my son and his blankets were missing. I exited the first bedroom, crossed the kitchen and living room, and entered my own bedroom. It was there that my worst fears were confirmed. My son was on the bed. His small body was unmoving and covered with a blood soaked blanket just as his sister was. My wife, on the other hand, was not there. 

With no other rooms to search through in my house, I left it and entered my barn. There, hanging from one of the main support beams, was my wife. Naked, battered, bruised, covered in dried blood, she was hanged like a slaughtered animal. Her tongue lolled forward, her eyes bulging, but the most grievous of all her wounds was the gaping opening in her chest cavity. 

"Lanna," I whispered. Fighting back the bile that had risen in my throat, I went to her body and cut her down. Removing the ring I had given her when we were joined, I covered her body, and left my barn for the last time carrying her corpse. I lined my family up side by side taking great pains to cover them all. 

Once my gruesome task was complete, I walked out into the field of crops she had planted and fell to my knees. My shaking hands gripped onto the ring I held in my hands while my eyes looked towards the heavens searching for answers from a silent god.

That evening Harry helped me construct a funeral pyre. He watched as I placed my wife, son, and daughter's bodies onto the flames. He said nothing as I honored them in the ancient traditions. I prayed to Hades to grant them passage into the Elysian Fields, to the God and Goddess for forgiveness for turning my back on them, and to Athena, my patron deity. 

He left me there to start a fire at our campsite. Somehow I felt I should honor them by standing guard until the last ember had fizzled out. 

As the last flames began to die down, my attention was drawn to the night's sky. The earth was clouded with the red light of a blood moon. Religious zealots had always warned that it was an omen for darkness to come. I thought, quite foolishly, that it symbolized the malevolence of that morning when, in actuality, it was for the evil that gripped me.

I took my wife's ring from my pocket and affixed it to the silk cord around my neck that bore His Majesty's crest. 

"I will avenge your deaths, my love," I whispered into the nothingness of night.

"Our meal is ready, my lord," Harry called from behind me.

Food was a necessity that I neither wanted nor desired. Somehow filling my belly when I had just seen to my entire family's last rites seemed incomprehensible and callous. But I knew that Harry was doing all he could to ease my suffering. After all, he could have turned on me when I ordered him to kill those men, but he didn't. He could have taken me into custody for killing an unarmed man, but he didn't. Instead, he stood by and watched as a broken man placed his family on funeral pyre and saw them off in the old tradition- a pagan tradition in the eyes of the current king. I walked the few feet to the campsite my squire and, in retrospect, my only true friend had set up.

"Harry, why do you insist on calling me sir?"

He gave me a confused expression which encouraged me to explain myself. "You've served under me for nearly your whole life and yet you still call me 'sir.' Never once have you used my name."

"Would you prefer I called you Lord Paris, sir?"

I gripped his shoulder, thinking this is the last I would see of him. "No, Harry. You may call me my Christian name, Tom." 

"But sir..."

"You helped me see my family to the underworld. You helped me capture the parties that killed them. You're the closest thing I have to a son or a true friend."

"I'm honored, sir...I mean Tom." 

I smiled at him. The boy had taken on a beaming grin. He regarded me for a long moment, his expression fading.

"You're going to Chaldea to kill Crycus, aren't you?" he breathed.

"The Furies will not let neither I nor my family know peace until I have killed him."

"Chaldea is supported by a century of soldiers. You'll never find a weakness in the system. Even if you survived and succeeded, the king will have you hanged for heresy and desertion when you return.

I looked at him with an unguarded expression. "I'm already dead," I said simply. 

Harry paused, his face drained of color at my comment. Apparently he hadn't been expecting so much honesty from a man that had promised to be strong at all times for his kingdom.

"You're not thinking clearly. Give it a few days yet then decide."

I waited until he was asleep before taking my leave of him. I left him a parchment to take to the king respectfully asking for a leave of absence. I also suggested to the king that Harry was ready for his final test, and, should I not return alive, to allow him to take my place. Wrapped in that scroll was another written to Harry. I asked him to give me a few days to get underway before setting off for the main castle. Word spreads quickly, and I didn't need Crycus on alert.


	2. Part II

Blood Moon Sydney Alexis 

* * *

Part II 

I took passage on a boat across the Mediterranean Sea, landing on the port city of Latakai. From there, I traveled with a caravan of traders across the main land. I assumed the name Protius, and carried a cargo of salt and cloth. I also took on side assignments as an assassin for hire to sharpen my skills and make the connections I would need later. None of the men that I killed were innocents. I did have standards. 

Most of them men I killed were warlords, slave traders, black market dealers, or other assassins. I was paid quite well which allowed me to build up my store of weapons, food, and buy a few spies in Crycus' hideout. On the surface, I lived hand to mouth to give the impression that I was, in fact, an impoverished man. No one really notices the homeless; they are the silent eyes and ears of the street who witness more crimes than a king's fix-all man.

Years passed before I finally arrived at the Euphrates River. I felt my heart beat quicken involuntarily as I looked out across the clear blue water. My wind whirling at the notion that I was half a day's journey from Crycus' strong hold.

After all this time, he would have relaxed security. I had, before taking my leave of my homeland, made sure that there were rumors circulating of my death. Despite that, I had a contingency plan. That night, I stayed up late polishing and sharpening the blade of my sword, encouraged on by the blood moon that loomed in the night sky.

¤ 

The next day I awoke before the sunrise, loaded my camel, and rode towards the massive bridge across the river. I reached Chaldea and found two sleeping guards by the main gate of the walled city. Leaving my ride near the river and a small patch of grass, I took the supplies I needed onto my back and walked towards the north wall. 

Using well sharpened daggers, I pierced the adobe bricks and pulled myself up, scaling the wall with ease. I stopped just short of the top to listen for patrolling guards. Finding none, I scrambled over the top and landed deftly on the narrow catwalk. In the distance, I made out the image of a guard moving towards me. Knowing that the glint of my blade would catch the moonlight, I lowered myself to the ground below rather than attacking the man. 

With due caution, I moved in the shadows along the parameter of the wall looking for a weakness in the defense. I found one near the stables in the rear. There was a cellar door that remained unbolted. Taking my chances, I sprinted across the courtyard, opened the cellar door, and climbed down the ladder. What I encountered next I had not been expecting- the tip of a saber digging into my spine.

"Climb down slowly," a voice whispered from behind. I obeyed it. 

"Turn around," the voice said again. I began to question my own ears as I registered it as a female voice... 

Slowly, I rotated towards my captor. In the dim candlelight of the room, I confirmed my suspicion; the voice was a woman's. I grasped the dagger I kept up my sleeve and brought it down on her sword wrist, making the weapon drop. I used my foot to kick the hilt into my free hand, and held the curved blade out to her neck, pausing finally to catch my breath.

"Go ahead. Do it," she said, evenly.

I motioned for her to back up until I could see her clearly in the dim candlelight light. "I'm not going to kill you...yet," I said.

Her gray eyes were empty… haunted... Long, auburn hair fell from her shoulders down her back. Her dress was fairly elaborate which suggested she was more than just a common servant in this house. A concubine perhaps? 

My eyes darted around the tiny room. It was no wider than my own tiny home back in Greece, but was more elaborately decorated. Half a dozen columns lined the walls and between them were massive tapestries that depicted large scale battles, gods and goddess, and the banner of Crycus.

In the far corner, near the steps to the door, was a four poster bed. Covered in purple silks and brocades, it was obvious that someone of wealth either slept there or spent time there. To the left of me, a small vanity and directly across was an armoire.

"Who are you?" I asked her.

"Who are *you*?" she volleyed. 

"So...you want to play it like that? Fine. I don't have time for this."

I motioned for her to turn around which she did, begrudgingly. I bound her wrists together tightly, and turned her back towards me. She seemed indifferent to her bindings. 

"You aren't from here, are you?"

"What gave it away?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at her.

"You carry yourself differently from the commoner...more upright. And not everyone can disarm someone as skillfully. My guess would be Roman or Greek training, but your coloring is wrong. You also have blue eyes. No one native born to this area has fair skin, hair or eyes. Perhaps from farther north?" she said, scanning my frame.

"What's your name?" I asked. Her boldness and intelligence intrigued me. Her final statement alone was enough to confirm my suspicions; she wasn't born here either. That could work to my advantage.

"Kathryn," she said. "And yours?"

"Protius," I said, evenly. I judged her response, watching as the connection came into her eyes.

"The killer for hire? You know you'll be caught before you even get close enough."

"Doesn't matter. I'd rather die trying."

"Oh how noble! You know you've gone about this the wrong way. The only people that get close enough to Crycus are his trusted officers and his women."

"So that's what you are? One of his wives? Or a concubine?" I watched her face redden slightly and her shoulders droop.

"Not by choice."

Heavy footfalls approached from down the main hall. Kathryn's eyes met mine.

"You have to hide. They'll kill you if they find you."

"Why should I trust you?" I asked, questioning the wisdom of a compact with a woman I had known less than ten minutes. 

"Because I want him dead as badly as you do."

I looked into her eyes, as I did before, to search for the truth. Sensing no deception, I went into the shadows created by the pillars against the wall.

"There is always only a single guard that comes for me. I'll distract him while you knock him unconscious."

I nodded in agreement, not questioning the orders that she gave me. I figured that, if all else fails and she betrayed me, I could at least take her with me to the underworld.

Just as she had said, a single guard descended the steps to her room. He was well built for a man his side. The weapon her carried was a more simplistic one than I expected and, by the rust building on the tip of it, I was lead to assume he hadn't ever used it in battle before. He also moved less like a trained warrior and more like an oaf. I suddenly felt disappointed by my opponent. Was this the level of expertise that had killed all the men in my village? Surely a contingency as bad as this couldn't have overpowered my friends.

I watched as Kathryn approached the man, wrapping her arms playfully around his neck and turning him from the location I had taken. She was whispering in his ear. Something she said stirred the man into pushing her against the wall and kissing her. An inexplicable jealousy stirred deep inside me, but I quelled it as quickly as it came. Loosing focus was not something that I needed. I took the opportunity afforded to me, and darted forward, smashing the hilt of my sword into his skull. The deafening crack splattered blood on the young woman. The guard slumped against her and slid down her body leaving a blood smear the length of her gown. She looked at me with a shocked expression on her face.

"I said knock him unconscious not kill him." she whispered. I shrugged my shoulders.

"You'll have to change. Can't go running down the halls covered in blood."

"You will too," she said, motioning towards the dead guard.

I disrobed the guard, changing his clothes out for my own. Luckily not much of the man's blood was on his garments. The blow must have made his heartbeat stop instantly.

After the swap, I drug the corpse into the shadows of the room and met up with Kathryn.

"You'll escort me to his bed chamber, but I get to make the kill," I said.

"Crycus' forces run deeper than just him. If you kill him, one of his lieutenants will take over and hunt you down. If you ever truly want to be safe, you'll have to find a way to kill all of them," she said, placing her hands on her hips. I'll give her this much- the woman was fearless to her dying breath. She never did back down. Not even to me.

"All right. I'll do it your way. It was my contingency plan anyway," I said, opening the door. "Now lead the way." 

Kathryn finished washing the blood off her face and ambled passed me as if nothing had just happened. The walk to Crycus' room was a short one, presumably because he was too lazy to make any great journey to reach his harem. Slowly, the outline of two armed guards standing, arms crossed, one on either side of a massive, burgundy door came into focus.

"How many are there on the inside of his room?" I whispered to her.

"Just one guard- the one brings me." 

"Anyone else?"

"No. He doesn't like his men to know he has trouble sometimes," she said, a glint of humor in her eyes. I suppressed the urge to laugh aloud.

"Anything else I should know?"

"Yeah. I don't usually come willingly. Grab my arm."

I nodded in response. "My guess is that you won't have to go through with it." 

"Oh?"

"I intend on proving to him just how bad his security is." 

No more could be said between us. We were too close to his room not to worry about being overheard. True to her word, Kathryn began to struggle against me. I was forced to drag her - literally - down the hall. One of the guards at the door began laughing in a rough, gritty voice. "Your night tonight, huh, sweetheart?" his voice thundered down the empty, cavernous hallway. 

Kathryn pulled against my hold to angle herself close enough to spit at the guard. He raised his hand toward her to slap her, but I caught it midair. "Don't batter the merchandise. You'll only anger Crycus." I said, matching the man's vocal styles. He backed up and straightened his shoulders. The other guard stood back, chuckling.

I was forced to hold my breath as the stench from these two men was enough to make me physically ill. Their clothes and their body both spoke to a lack of personal hygiene. Granted, in parts of this desert landscape taking a bath was rare, but these idiots lived inches from a major waterway. 

Aside from their smell, I noted that these men were built for combat. Their swords were expertly sharpened but covered with nicks that suggested ample usage. There arms were sculpted as if swordplay was a common occurrence, and, when I caught the first soldier's hand I noted the standard positioned calluses one would expect on a swordsmen.

"Go on in, the master's waiting for you," the second guard said, pushing the door open.

I edged Kathryn into the room, giving both of us time to adjust to the new lighting. This room was ablaze with dozens of lit candles that left few shadows in which to hid in. Quite thankfully, Kathryn was truthful in telling me there was no one but Crycus in the room. 

And what a grandiose room it was. The main focal point of the room was a colossal sized bed that was ornately carved. Burgundy sheets and covers that matched the color on his crest as well as the door to his room covered the bed. And there, in the center of a pile of pillows was the object of my obsession- Crycus.

Still out of earshot and oblivious to our presence, I looked over at the man and knew in an instant that he was my old friend from years before. He bore the same blond curls and the same blue eyes shared by most of the people in my hometown. Seeing him there, glancing at a map spread across his bed, nearly naked, I was overcome with a familiar blood rage. It was the same feeling I had had in Atreus nearly a years before, but this time it was more intense. Suddenly, an idea dawned upon me.

"How many people know what he looks like?"

"Just myself and his other wives. He hides his face when dealing with everyone else. It prevents him from being a marked target in public. Why?"

"Slight change in plans. Just be sure to keep him distracted."

"What are you going to do?" her eyes narrowed in pure terror.

"Do you trust me?" I asked her without any pretense. Time was of the essence. She paused briefly and looked up at me, suppressing the look of fear on her own features. Finally, she answered me. 

"Yes," she said, simply. I squeezed her arm, reached behind her and locked the door, then pushed her forward into the room with enough force that she fell to her knees. 

"Ah...good. You managed to force her into the room. Bravo, Luton. You may take your standard position," he said, pointing to the far wall. I nodded and moved in that general direction, but Crycus was lost in the sensations Kathryn was eagerly providing him. Once again I felt an unnatural jealousy creep into me. 

I edging from the post I was given towards the headboard. In her peripheral view, Kathryn caught the movement. I motioned for her to move downward and out of the line of fire. She did as I asked and started a slow descent of his torso. Appreciative murmurs eliciting from Crycus' throat as she did so. I felt my stomach turn at the sound. My only conscious thought was the tiny but familiar voice that whispered sweetly in my ear. 'Kill him,' it said. 

In one fluid movement, I grasped on to the sides of his head and jerked his neck quickly to the left. There was no scream, no blood, just the sickening sound of his spinal cord snapping and his limp body falling back on to the bed. 

Kathryn gasped a little, but climbed off of the corpse without hesitation. Realization that she was now part of my scheme finally hit her. It was time for her to make up her decision- turn me in or join me. 

I, on the other hand, slumped against the rear wall of the room. I'd just killed the man that had ordered my family's death, but, instead of the rush I had expected, I only felt empty. All my rage, all my reason for existing had slipped from me, and I was left with nothing but the pain and grief I should have felt in the first place. In exacting my revenge I had become a monster as well. It was an anticlimax at best.

I felt the back of a hand touch my face. My eyes finally focused on the hastily dressed woman. She slid down onto the floor and sat beside me.

"You must have loved her a great deal to go through all of this."

"I did," I managed to say, somehow. I tried in vain not to cry. 

"How long do we have?"

"All night. He usually keeps me till the morning."

"Is there another way out of here?" I asked, slipping back into the calculated killer I had become.

"Yes. There is a tunnel from this room that leads out to the southern woods. Not many know about it."

"Good. We'll drag him out there tonight, burn the body, and be back here in enough time for sunrise."

"Then what?"

"How often does he call on each of his wives?"

Her eyes narrowed at me as she caught on to the logistics of my plan. A smile crept across her face- one that belied both hope and fear.

"It depends on how well the war is going. If it goes well, he'll pick one per night. If it goes badly, the same, but he will beat us then."

"How many are there?" 

"Wives or wars?" she asked, trying to make light of the situation.

"Both."

"Seven wives, including myself. One younger, five older. He has...had... two major, ongoing wars. The first is local; he wants to gain more trading waters to tax. It is a minor skirmish at best...," Kathryn said, her voice trailing off. 

"And the second?" I asked, raising her chin with my finger. Her smile had faded, and a fearful look returned.

"The second is in your...our homeland. He is siding with the king to take over more territory."

"What?" I said, shocked that she was suddenly speaking in my native tongue.

"The crest you wear around your neck is the same that was given to Crycus when he joined with the king. It was given to him along with me as a symbol of his good faith."

I couldn't form logical though. It had never even occurred to me that my own countrymen could be behind something like this. "What?" I asked, unsure of if I had heard her correctly.

She shook her head. "I don't know all the details, but I do know that he, your king that is, suggested that something might be done to distract you...he said that you wouldn't take the merge of power very well."

My hand went to my necklace involuntarily. I touched the icy gold band around my neck, allowing my grief to only temporarily shine through. Kathryn's eyes followed the movement.

"You lost more than just a wife."

I nodded slowly again. "My newborn son, my daughter, my wife, and everyone in my village..."

She sighed in a tone that told of mutual pain. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry," she said, touching my shoulder. The action seemed somehow familiar. I laughed out loud. It was a sick, hollow cackle more than anything else. The sound of it made her jump.

"You sound like my squire."

She offered the ghost of a smile. "What is your real name, Protius?"

I gazed at her and whispered a name I hadn't given in what seemed a lifetime. "Tom Paris, but you can call me Crycus."


	3. Part III

Blood Moon Sydney Alexis 

* * *

Part III 

True to our plan, Kathryn helped me wrap the body of Crycus, carry it through the subterranean tunnel, build a pyre, and give him the funeral he didn't permit my whole village. In a perfect world, his death would have been slow and painful. His body left to the animals to eat from. Discovery of his body by the wrong people though...that would ruin my plan.

Kathryn, my pseudo-wife, stood beside me. Her arms crossed. Her eyes locked on the jumping orange flames. There was a definite slump to her shoulders, but a peace to her face that I hadn't noticed before. I turned towards her and closed the distance between us. 

"What's wrong?" I asked, worried that she was backing out of the plan.

"This is the moment I've dreamt of for as long as I can remember, but I'm not sure what to make of it. Crycus could be a cruel man- he forced himself on me more times than I can count, he would beat me, but he always saw to it that I had food, clothes, an education. In some way, I was grateful to him for taking me out of my old home. At least here I had the opportunity to see things I never even knew existed. 

"And once this charade is over we'll either be dead, hunted, or heroes. Either way I won't have a place to return home to," she said, glancing sideways at me.

"I may not, but you do."

"I went willingly just to get out of that small town. If I'd have know it would have been like this..."

"No one said you had to return to your village. Home is where you make it. Travel the world, see the sites you've been told about." She nodded, eyes affixed on the dying flames. Enough of his corpse had burned that no identity remained. 

"We'd better get back and get you changed," she said, eyeing the rising sun in the distance. I nodded in agreement and followed her back through the labyrinth of caves. Once inside, she showed me to Crycus' wardrobe.

"What are we going to do about the guard you killed?" she asked, standing beside me, watching me dress. The latter had not gone unnoticed.

"As soon as I'm finished dressing, I'll open the door to my room, and tell the guards that a man broke into your room last night and tried to attack you. You were the one that killed him. I'll say that I was too interested in you to worry about trivial things like a dead body in my castle."

She laughed. "That actually sounds like something he would say."

I turned towards her and smiled. "Is it unusual for a wife to accompany him during the day? You are the only person that I trust here, and I am afraid I am at a disadvantage because I haven't a clue who any of these people are."

"No. It's not. Typically, it is his first wife that does, or the one that has gain his favor most recently."

I finished tying the last sash across my face to hide my appearance and turned towards her. "How do I look?"

"Like the bastard that I'm married to," she said with no sense of humor in her voice. I nodded and slipped Crycus' saber through my belt.

"Let the games begin," I said, walking towards the door, and offering her my arm. "Come my dear, breakfast awaits."


	4. Part IV

Blood Moon Sydney Alexis 

* * *

Part IV 

I had no way of knowing it then, but those brief hours set into motion a plot that would ultimately consume and drastically alter my life. I was already a deserter to the 'great' king that ordered the death of my family, and, in my leave, had put a bounty on my head- dead or alive. Of course, Thomas Paris ceased to be years before. He would never...could never be the assassin I had become. Paris turned Protius turned Crycus. Like the good actor I was, I shrugged on a new outfit, a new persona, and become the man I'd grow to hate. 

Unlocking the door and swinging it open, I was greeted by my entourage- two guards and an odd looking little man dress in reds and gold. 

"His name is Arkin," Kathryn whispered into my ear. "He is a personal assistant of sorts. He keeps track of all your appointments, contacts, and business affairs." 

I let out a deep feral growl as if she had suggested something inappropriate which branched into resolution of an earlier problem. "Kathryn has told me that someone broke into her room last night and attacked her. She had to dispatch of him herself. Why wasn't there any guards present to stop him?" 

I watched all three men stiffen at the remark. It was Arkin that finally spoke. "I wasn't aware...I mean is your property damaged, sir?" he asked, looking towards Kathryn and then me expectantly. 

"This property's name is Kathryn. You would do well to remember that. It was she that dealt with the man and, in doing so, has gained my favor. I do, however, suggest you deal with the body left in her room before the stench escapes down the hall." 

"Yes. Right away, sir." 

I nodded and brushed past them as if they were insignificant. The movement was one my former king had used on me more times that I could count. By Kathryn's bemused smile, I was fairly certain it was an appropriate action. 

She guided me past several large tapestries, past her bedroom, finally turning and descending a massive staircase. "The dining room is ahead on the left. Your military advisor, Tuvok, is usually waiting to brief you on the status of your wars. Trust him; he has shown nothing but loyalty to Crycus." 

A servant pushed open the massive, ironwork door as I approached, bowing deeply until I passed him. The first thing that struck me about the room was the expansiveness of it. Leave it to a megalomaniac to have a dining room fit for a king. 

A large, mahogany table filled most of the expanse of the room. Thirty chairs lined the perimeter but could easily be pushed together to accommodate more. At the head of the table was what I could presume was his chair. Painted in gold with deep, red velvet cushions it looked more like a throne than a dining room chair. It was almost laughable. 

Near the aforementioned chair was a fireplace that took up most of the left wall. A fire raged within warding off the bitter cold that night left in its wake. Above, on the mantle, was a large portrait of Crycus. He was dressed in a fine, white wrap that had gold accents. His hand was resting on the hilt of his saber, an eyebrow quirked. The majority of his face was hidden behind a wrap. 

Kathryn pulled me gently towards the effeminate red throne. I took my place at the head of the table noting that not one but five men were gathered around it all of which looked as though they recognized me. Not good. Offering Kathryn a seductive smile, I pulled her into my lap and kissed her soundly. She pulled back, nuzzling my neck and whispering into my ear. 

"Tuvok is the man on your left. Sitting behind him is his lieutenant. They call him Neelix." 

I growled appreciatively. Just putting on a show, I reminded myself. Those gathered acted as if it was commonplace, but looked anywhere but at us. 

I gazed at the first two men she had pointed out. Tuvok was a Moor. Resilient, nomadic, and a tough match in battle, they were one of the few colored groups from Africa that had not been taken as slaves. Crycus was wise to choose Tuvok. His reputation proceeded him. Neelix, on the other hand, was not as strong of military mind. He was a valiant fighter according to all the bards I had run into over the years, but he was of a weak stomach when it came to killing in cold blood. Tuvok though...there was an evil streak within him that was just lying in wait beneath the surface. 

Kathryn's arms snaked around my neck. Conscious thought was becoming difficult. She was peppering kisses along my neck and murmuring her explanations. 

"You know Arkin from earlier," she said as my eyes followed hers to the other side of the table. "Kes is at his side. She's your favorite assassin. Beside her is the local law. He comes every seven sunrises to collect his pay for looking the other way. His name is Chakotay," she said, voice dipping low, colored with hate. 

I cocked my head towards her on instinct. "I'm sure there's a story there, pet." 

"Several. Before this is over," she said, gliding her hand down my chest, drawing circles on it through the silk. "I'm taking him out." 

I chuckled, understanding her bloodlust. I found it and her temper appealing. Then again Lanna had been like that too; tough exterior, but she could be so tender too... Shaking my head to clear unbidden memories, I turned my attention to the opposite side of the table. Chakotay was a few shades lighter than Tuvok and his lieutenant. His olive coloring and black hair suggested he was from an Arabian heritage. The tattoo about his right temple was, no doubt, a marking of his people. I was unfamiliar with it though. He was of heavy build with more girth on his belly than his arms. Broad shoulders, dark eyes, and a visible scar on his left arm that ran down the length of it. His hands were worn and his posture suggested that he was a soldier at one time- back straight, ears tuned to the air around him, hand on the hilt of his sword. His glory days were gone, but he might still pose a threat. 

Kes was surprising. She was legendary among the traveling bards as the 'Black Mistress.' Tales of her outwardly flirtatious behavior allowing her access to the most battle-hardened men were told in nearly every tavern in Britain, Japa, and Chin. She'd seduced more men into the quiet confines of their bedroom, killed them, and slipped out before sunrise than even she could count. 

None of the accounts ever included a physical description- guards seldom took notice of their master's latest concubine. Here she was though, sitting inches from me. No wonder she had won so many mens 'hearts.' Blonde hair, blue eyes, elfin features, a petite body, and a warm smile. Who would expect someone so small could kill a man within seconds? 

Arkin cleared his throat loudly, drawing my attention back to him. "Master Crycus, I really do hate to interrupt you, sir, but if you wish to stay on schedule..." 

I laughed heartily at him. "Arkin, you are too uptight, friend, but, I suppose being rid of you will give me more time to play," I said, looking pointedly at the woman curled in my lap. 

"How go the battles, Tuvok?" 

"Quite well. The king will, however, be expecting you soon to solidify your plans. It is my belief that seeing you in person will put him at ease." 

"I'm sensing a but coming, Tuvok," I said, raising an eyebrow. 

"King Solomon wishes to test your skills in combat. He believes that any man worthy to lead his armies on to victory can survive his challenge." 

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing aloud. The 'challenge' was, no doubt, the very obstacle course his men trained on. Any novice page could trudge through the course unscathed. Of course, the king, himself, believed it to be of great difficulty. "And I should fear this...'challenge'?" 

"Your fighting form has not been in top shape since the skirmish in Zanzibar. I worry that your sword arm has not yet recovered..." 

I released my grip on Kathryn and motioned for her to glide off of my lap. She did so, favoring me with an intrigued expression. My left hand found its way to the hilt of my saber tucked carefully in my belt. 

"Care to test your theory, old man?" 

My heartbeat quickened at the idea of facing off with a worthy opponent. Through my travels, I had picked up a few moves that His Majesty would never sanction, but were of great use in the field. My breathing deepened, preparing for battle. I could feel the adrenaline surge in my body. 

"Very well," he said, standing. His voice so neutral it threw me off guard, but his eyes...his eyes told another story. He was excited as I was. 

I drew the blade carefully taking a defensive stance. Smiling broadly, he pulled a well used scimitar from his scabbard. I decided a surprise move might catch his attention, jumping effortlessly atop the expensive table, bring the blade down on his shoulder and leaving a nasty nick. 

"Fancy move for a novice," he growled, joining me on the wooden playing field. I smiled but had no time for a pithy comeback as he retaliated with a sift swing towards my forearm. I turned my blade quickly, deflecting the blow. He tried three more attempts in rapid synchronization. Spinning quickly, using momentum to increase the devastation of his blow, he turned his blade against my abdomen while trying to kick my legs out from under me. I jumped straight in the air to avoid his kick and lowered my sword to ward off his. Then brought it up and around in a circle, disarming him. The metal of his sword clamored loudly to the stone floor. I used his momentary shock to my advantage, delivering a roundhouse kick to his stomach, sending him flying backwards off the table. The wind knocked out of him, I had the precious seconds needed to kneel beside him, jab my knee into his gut, and lower the dagger I kept concealed up my sleeve to his throat. 

The entire fight had taken no more than a few moments. I had disarmed him, defeated him, and broken his lucky streak. Fear shone brightly beneath his eyes as the cold steel kissed the vein hammering away just under his dark flesh. 

I swore that if I closed my eyes tight enough I can force myself to forget the image imposed over Tuvok's- the face of the first man I killed in cold blood. I was just a boy then- no more than ten or eleven summers, and it was my first joust. My lord had insisted that Ethan and I make a run of it and try out the skills we had worked so hard to perfect in a combat situation. 

Ethan came towards me, full charge, lance down. I did the same, but, for some inexplicable reason, his shield failed- snapped in two. The tip of my lance cut through it like a knife through butter and continued on to run him through. My steed stopped as quickly as I pulled the reigns, but it was too late. Ethan resembled the hogs we used to turn on the spit in my village. Eyes wide in terror, mouth gaping like a fish's. There was so much blood. 

I stepped back and away from the puddle that was cast unto the hay-covered ground. Sinking to my knees, eyes locked on what I had done, I lost my breakfast to the ground, retching until there was no more and continuing all the same. My lord placed his hand on my shoulder and forced me away. 

"It wasn't your fault," he said, simply. "It was an accident. You just hit a weak spot in his shield. It could have happened to any one of us." 

He sat me down on the stump beside the servant's well and began cleaning the blood off of my hands. He told me of the first kill he'd made- a peasant spy who had pulled a dagger to his throat. 

"You don't understand," I told him, "I had a choice. You didn't." 

Little moments that add up. I sat in the shade of the castle on that stump, listening to my lord, watching the older servants load Ethan's body onto the manure truck and pull it towards the outskirts of town. We sent him off in the old traditions, calling on Celesta to see him over. 

That fear, anger, and disbelief that Ethan held in his eyes though...it is the same look that Tuvok and every other man before him that I was about to strike held. It used to haunt me until I learned to accept it and draw power from it. The ancient texts of Ares and Athena say that the true warrior shall look upon evil and the darkness shall have his soul for then and only then will he be free of conscious and fear. I have no doubt now that I will spend eternity in Hades suffering eternal torment, but I have every intention of seeing my enemies out with me. 

"Never question my abilities again," I murmured, backing off, fighting the demon that raged inside me that whispered 'kill him...kill him...' 

I returned to my seat. My heart still thundering in my chest, my breathing still labored. Neither was from the small amount of exertion. It was bloodlust and, as much as I am ashamed to admit, that violence to this day takes me over when I fight. 

Sinking slowly into my throne, I turn my head towards Kathryn. Her eyes told me enough; my dark side scared the hell out of her. I shrugged and grabbed the wooden goblet of wine, taking a deep drink, willing my hands to stop shaking. Again, not of fear but of raw need. Murder to an assassin was like alcohol to an addict; you crave it, and, when you are left unsatisfied, your body rebels. 

"Impressive work, Crycus," Kes purred in a sweet, alto voice. "Never figured you the type...all talk and that." 

I shrugged. "You don't make it as far as I have and live if you can't fight," I said, standing. In my peripheral view, I saw Kathryn slip out of the room. Without her backup, I wasn't willing to stay in the room and continue the charade. "If you'll excuse me..." 

I stood and walked three paces before Arkin stepped towards me, blocking my path. I growled in response, clenching and relaxing my hands. "Sir, I know how you do enjoy a good battle, but there are still a few more matters that need to be discussed this morning." 

"Such as?" I said, evenly. 

"Well…there is the matter of local security, and Kes' future assignments…" 

I turned towards the motley group surrounding my table and offered them a weak smile. "Mr. Tuvok, Neelix, I would like you to leak to your soldiers that I'm not particularly happy with His Majesty's demands that I prove my fighting skills. From what I understand, the ol' boy has never been able to complete the course himself," I said, pausing. 

"If he wants to fight me, he can challenge me or have me face his best man. Either way, it is of little concern to me," I finished, turning my gaze to Chakotay. "The security of this city-state is appalling. You will not receive any further payment until your men have been properly trained. If need be, have Neelix assist you." 

Finally, I turned my attention to Kes. She smirked at me, eyes filled with merriment and approval. "It's 'bout time you cleaned house, Crycus," she said, laughing. "I was starting to think all those wives were making you soft." 

The double entendre was not lost on me. I smiled at her slyly and moved to stand behind her. I had to know if she and Crycus had been more than just business and sparring partners. Resting my hands on her shoulders, I felt the muscles beneath ripple and shake with anticipation of my next more. In that moment, I read her more clearly than I had the entire time I'd observed her from across the room. Bending down, allowing lips to press butterfly kisses along her shoulder and the nape of her neck, I whispered all the delicious things that I wanted to do with her…to her…or with her watching into her ear. Her breathing became ragged, and her pulse picked up exponentially. I smiled against her skin, knowing that I had won her over. 

"Leave us," I barked at the men in the room. Last thing I needed was for them to overhear… Chakotay, Neelix, and Arkin walked quickly from the room without a word. Tuvok raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. 

"I have a special assignment for you," I said, returning the assault on her neck. "Not the usual kind at all." 

"Mmmm…what's in it for me?" Her voice had taken on a husky quality I was finding hard to resist. 

"I think you already know that one," my hands slid lower on her frame, brushing against her breast, eliciting a low moan. She stilled and turned to look at me. Her eyes were filled with mirth. "Is it dangerous?" 

"The deadliest type. Chances are, it would be an ugly, quick death if you were caught." 

She pouted her lips. "What? No foreplay?" I laughed at her forwardness. So few woman were as open about their sexuality since the introduction of the one god. 

"You can play with me when you get back, pet. Until then I'll need you focused on this. You're one of the few people I have that's worth the skin the Goddess gave you." 

She smiled at me. "Careful who you say that around. That King of yours wouldn't be thrilled to know he's in bed with a pagan." 

"I prefer my bedmates to be a little more curvy," I brushed my hand against her again to make my point. "And as for being a pagan… well, that makes for a more interesting night. The Goddess never looked down on a little magick use. I hear you're a regular witch, yourself." 

"Witch, Wiccan, succubus. I've been called quite a few names in my day. Is it my fault I know how to control the elements so well?" 

"You might need that were I'm sending you," I said, a serious expression crossing my features. She straightened in her seat, all sexual play forgotten. 

"Must be serious for the boss to be scared for my safety." 

"King Solomon isn't exactly living up to his name. You recalled hearing of a man named Protius?" I asked, watching her closely to see if she recognized the name. Her features fell a bit. 

"Course I have. Ran into a few traveling bards that tell stories of his killing sprees. Did you know he killed Prince Tibirious in the middle of a parade to celebrate his victory of the Nords? Shot him from the palace balcony straight through the eye. Thousands of troops lined up behind the prince and not a one of them was able to find him. I wish I had been there…seen the chaos. Can you imagine?" 

It was the most I'd heard her say, and, in that small timeframe, I found myself amused. Was that hero worship I heard in her voice? I suppressed the urge to laugh aloud, and continued on. "Seems that the king sent Protius to kill me last night." 

Kes' spine straightened against the back of her chair. "Obviously he didn't succeed. What happened to him? Is he in the dungeon? I'd love to go play with the puppy," she said, eyes lighting up. 

"'Fraid not. Seems that Kathryn managed to kill him when he broke into her room last night." 

"Kathryn?" Kes laughed, deep and long. "You mean that little git that was hanging all over you a minute ago?" I nodded my head slowly. "Must have underestimated her." 

I laughed heartily. "You have no idea." 

"So let me guess. Your little assignment is for me to go to the king and find out who his trusted men are and who are those you could turn to your side of thinking." 

"Deadly, playful, *and* brilliant. Just how I like my girls," I said in a low voice. 

She laughed and cocked her head to the side. "I'm not one of your girls, Crycus. Never will be. You want to play when I get back and I'm game, but I'll never be some simpering wife." 

"Fair enough," I said, rewarding her with a smile. "Just be careful, Kes." 

She nodded and slipped out of the room as quietly as the others did. I took a moment and slipped into her seat. Playing all these mind games in such a short spans of time was exhausting. I used the palm of my hand to work the tight muscles as the base of my neck. I always seem to carry all my tension there. 

With all of the morning's crisis handled, I still have two loose ends to tie up- Protius' ride and patching things up with Kathryn. 


	5. Part V

Blood Moon Sydney Alexis 

* * *

Part V 

After using the secret passage to sneak out side of the walled city, I changed into commoner garb, and recovered my camel where I had left her. Grateful that both she and my belongings were intact, I lead her through the front gate without much hassle. I made my way to the rather large stable I'd spotted the night before, and handed the owner a large sack of dinars, requesting that he take care of my ride until further notice. 

Taking my small bundle of possessions with me, I waited near the gate until midday when the largest number of sellers left the city en route for the next large village. Surrounded by traders, I slipped past the slow minded sentry and made my way to the tunnel once again. 

I left my pack in the tunnel hidden behind a small pile of crates that lined the path, and changed for the fourth time that day. From my room, I wandered the castle looking for Kathryn, feeling as though I owed her an explanation at the very least. We were both risking out lives. Her more so than I. It was simple for a man to escape and recreate himself. Woman, on the other hand, were still considered property in most countries. Those that didn't know how to fight were also taken advantage of more often than not. 

As I meandered through the hallways, I was overcome with a better sense of the type of person Crycus was. Aside from being egocentric and vain, he seemed to be an accomplished fighter. I also suspected he beat not only his wives but anyone that worked beneath him that failed him in some way. Not a single worker I past would make eye contact. Most would cast their gaze at the icy stone floor. 

One of them many workers I came across was an elderly woman scrubbing floors. I stopped and regarded her for a long moment. 'The eyes of those that are not acknowledged or noticed tend to see the most' my tutor had told me once. My presence had not gone unnoticed. In fact, she had altered her scrubbing pattern so that none of the soap suds or grime would fly towards me. I also noticed that her hands were shaking at my proximity. No doubt that pounce Crycus had raised his fist against her before. 

I leaned down beside her and touched her shoulder. She jumped and turned towards me, eyes downward. "Have you seen Kathryn, Mother?" I asked her softly. 

"I believe I saw her running towards the garden, Lord Crycus." 

I nodded, standing. "Thank you," I said, turning. In my peripheral view, I caught a glimpse of her chancing a look at me. I turned to look at her once again. Again, she cast her eyes down. 

"Why is such a woman of your advanced years scrubbing the castle floors? Surely there are younger woman to do this task." 

"You assigned me to this ten winters ago after you burned your tongue on the stew I had made." 

I felt my heart sink. Could a man be so cruel? The woman was old enough to be my great-grandmother, and Crycus was so petty he had her scrubbing floors? 

"Stand, pet. Go to the kitchen and help the young things out. There are plenty of idiots in here that are supposed to be protecting me whose time would be better spent doing this." 

She rose from the floor, giving me an incredulous look. "If you don't mind me sayin' so, Sir, Kathryn seems to have bewitched you," she said, grabbing the pail and leaving quickly. I smiled to myself and continued my long walk down the hallway. 

¤ 

I found Kathryn in the garden several moments later. She was staring blankly at the climbing rose vine. I sat beside her without saying a word. She didn't turn to acknowledge my presence. 

"That look in your eyes...," she said without tearing her line of sight from the back wall. "I'd seen it before in his when he was beating me." 

"There's a monster inside everyone. Just takes a catalyst to bring him out," I said, slipping my hand into hers. She flinched and pulled away as if it had burned. 

"I've heard tales about you..." 

"Oh?" I said, raising an eyebrow. 

"At the local tavern. There was a blonde girl. Had short hair and this tiny red outfit. She mentioned your story- an assassin that teamed up with her to stop a slave trading ring. Painted you as a fight the good fight kind of man." 

I shrugged my shoulders. "I've lived both lives- white and black hat. Didn't care for either. Got burned doing both. Course the pay was better for the second, but having a price on your scalp..." 

"What happened to you?" she asked softly, turning her big gray eyes on me. I felt dirty under her gaze. 

"Which part do you want to know?" 

"Either. Both. Doesn't matter. I just want to understand you. How you came to be so..." her voice trailed off. 

"Evil? Cold? Cruel? Long, unpleasant story, love. Not sure the likes of you would enjoy it." 

"Try me," she said, staring directly into my eyes, challenging me. 

I paused, letting myself slip out of the character of Crycus, and become nothing more than a narrator. "Right then. It started about five summers ago. I returned home to find my family and village slaughtered by Crycus' men. I knew he was a tough man to beat in a fair fight. I also knew that he kept his grounds fairly well protected...or so the story said. From my homeland, I traveled east, trying to hone my skills, create a new identity for myself, and let the rumors of my death calm down so that it went from myth to fact." 

"You staged your own death?" she said, incredulously. 

"Yeah. Killed by Protius." 

She smiled at me. "You killed yourself?" she clarified. 

"Yeah," I said, chuckling at the idea of it all. She could cram complex issues into simple statements. 

"Sold all my family's heirlooms on the black market. Was enough to live off of for years, and it just solidified my cover story. 

"I traveled from place to place, uncovering Crycus' supporters and took them out. Take out his generals and his soldiers haven't a clue what to do. Was paid fairly well from my troubles by the locals and picked up a lot of good fighting tactics." 

"And bad habits," she said, patting the flask in my pocket. 

I lowered my eyes quickly, suddenly ashamed. "Yeah. Tried real hard to do myself in I guess. Spent my free nights drinking and whoring around town. None of them were ever her though. Not a one of 'em. Every single last one I took to bed had some trait of hers- dark hair, eyes, similar build, voice...but none of 'em were her." 

I noted how my voice automatically dipped back into my regional dialect when I'd drank too much or was too upset to care. Lanna had always brought that out in me...Kathryn did too. 

"So that's it then. You killed Crycus. Why stick around?" 

"King Solomon would just claim Crycus' army and march them against whatever group he has targeted. My guess is Chin or Japa; he always did have a thing for trying to convert the heathens. It would throw the balance of power all off. Besides, those two countries have more people per capita than all of this area." 

"What happens after you bring down this king of yours?" 

I shrugged my shoulders. "Figured I'd live out my life as some new persona..." 

"As a killer?" 

"I prefer the term assassin, and why not? I'm good at it. Pay's good." 

"But it's not you. Not who you are." 

"Not who I used to be," I corrected you. 

"So someone kills your family and you decide to turn into the same type of animal that did it? I saw the look in your eyes in there. You wanted him to make a move- to give you a reason to kill him. I saw it. He saw. We all did." 

"A woman in Kurdistan told me once that the look I had in my eyes when the bloodlust came upon me reminded her of a Romanian count she knew. She even suggested that I was formed from the Furies' blood. Had unsettling blue eyes that I thought could see right through to my soul. Called herself Duessa. Scary thing she was. Nomadic... a gypsy of sorts. She's the one that gave me the idea to start this journey. Said it would cleanse my soul. 

"Spent a good two months with her learning survival skills like how to find water and food in a desert, how to hide my identity with only a handful of supplies, and a few fighting techniques. Through her, I got my first assignment." 

"And what was that? Killing, maiming, or both?" 

I chuckled at her obvious disapproval. "First man I killed for pay was a warlord who was terrorizing a local village. He had an affinity for stealing all their crops and selling them in nearby towns. 

"Every year he would show up like clockwork, and every year he would threaten to kill the village woman if they didn't deliver. So, he came on the last full moon of the spring, but I was waiting for him. 

"The villagers fired at his army with slingshots sending them into the woods like scared children. I'd set up tiger traps at a few spots, hunting snares and that. After they were all taken care of, I rode into his camp. He'd left little protection for himself. Took most of them out with arrows from a good distance. Then came the showdown. Fought the ugly bugger in a sword fight. Got a nasty scar, a bag of dinars, and a full meal for my troubles." 

"And the tattoo on your back?" she asked, blushing a deep crimson as she asked. 

"That was a gift," I said, lowering my head. "It's a protection charm of sorts.." 

"Why do I sense there is more to this story that you aren't telling me?" she asked after a lengthy pause. 

I let out a sigh, and reached into my coat pocket, drawing out the silver flask. It was an automatic response to pain. I caught her disapproving look, grateful she said nothing. After a large swallow, I finally answered her question. "Not all the past is easy to discuss, pet, especially when I haven't had to recall the events in years." I saw it then- the pity that always comes. I hate this part of revealing conversations. 

"I came across an old man in Japa whose grand daughter had been kidnapped and sold into the black market. He agreed to teach me what he knew about his countryman's fighting methods if I could return her. I did as he asked. Brought her back, even killed the guy that did it. Yuling was a real treasure. Of course, I had to fall in love with her to complicate matters. 

"She spent a good week and a half with her grand father. Helped him teach me how to fight and all that. She's the first one that cared enough about me to actually listen to the whole sordid story of how I came to do what I was doing," I said, standing. "By the end of the week, I had grown listless of being in the same spot. The snow was falling hard that winter, and I could feel all the years of wear and tear in my bones. 

"I was all packed to go when Yuling stopped me. She was dressed in all white, and was holding her favorite blade. She had this puffy red eyes and tear stained cheeks. I remember pulling her into my arms and hugging her goodbye. Then, I remembered the sword. I asked her what she was doing with it, and she told me she was restoring her family's honor," I paused, noticing that, for the first time in years, I was crying. 

"What happened?" Kathryn asked softly. 

"I was a good three-four hundred footfalls from her house when I heard her grandfather scream. I dropped my things and ran as fast as I could towards their home. My feet kept sinking into the snow, slowing me down. When I got there…" I had to stop and clear my throat. The emotion overcame me. 

"When I got there, Yuling was face down in the snow. Her kimono was stained red and this dark black pool surrounded her," I swallowed hard, recalling the event. "I remember thinking how I should pick her up, carry her inside…that she must be so cold laying in that snow." 

I felt a warm hand touch my face, willing me back to the present with her. "I loved her," I said, looking deep into Kathryn's. She was the second woman I lost. This time, by her own hand." 

"Oh Tom, I had no idea…" she said, softly. 

I straightened in my seat and pulled away from her, offering the ghost of a smile. "I'll make you a deal; you don't mention my past, and I won't mention yours." 

"Deal," she said without hesitation. 


	6. Part VI

Blood Moon  


Sydney Alexis 

VI 

I left Kathryn in the wives' bath and made my way to my room. After playing the role I was cast, I was exhausted. Every step, word, and action had to be carefully crafted without any hesitation. Despite my attempts, which Kathryn characterized as 'spot-on', I knew for a fact that I'm was being followed. I had been through most of the morning as I searched the castle for my pseudo-wife. The pillock tried to eavesdrop on our conversation earlier. I could almost hear the fool straining to pick up bits of our conversation. I'd nearly had enough.

Whoever he was, he was 'well' trained. While he was able to melt into the shadows, his footsteps were heavy, clumsy, and loud enough for me to identify gender and weight. An image of the elephant I'd ridden in India came to mind. Suppressing a laugh, I continued to walk towards my room. My tail stopped as I neared the doors, edging out behind the third pillar back on my right to watch me. An uneasy feeling crept through me- not from the idiot trying to follow me, but from my sixth sense telling me someone was waiting in my room. 

I was left with an interesting dilemma. One behind me and at least one in front. The question was- were they working together? If so, he was waiting to give them a signal of my approach. Pausing to slide my dagger from its sheath and palming it, I retraced my steps back towards the massive staircase I had just climbed. One hundred seventy three steps to the third pillar on the right. I had counted to ensure I could escape this place at night if necessary. 

As I approached my tail, I heard him draw in a deep breath, heard his feet shuffle against the stone flooring, attempting to mold himself there, willing me not to see him. Whoever had taught him, there skill was mediocre at best. One hundred seventy...one hundred seventy one... I drew the blade into my hand, grasping it lightly. One hundred seventy two...three. I walked a few paces from the pillar, imaging him sighing with relief that I didn't catch him. Idiot. His heart was racing hard if not harder than my own. He was fighting his body's call for more oxygen. Deeper breaths would give location away. Not that it mattered. I already knew exactly where he was.

I turned abruptly, my arm flying upwards, the dagger's blade leaving my hand and sailing through the air toward the third pillar. He didn't have time to move or react until after I had hit my target. A deep, strangled cry escaped the man's throat. From my position, I could smell the blood pooling from his wound. I drew my sword from my belt and approached cautiously.

The door to my room came flying open and two men and a woman came running out toward me. The first man was short with dark brown hair. He stopped, raising a crossbow, aimed it, pulled the trigger. I watched the arrow spiral on a straight trajectory. A smile tugged at my lips.Nothing like a good bout of violence to clear the mind. 

I raised the wide blade of my sword, deflecting the object, then took a fighting stance. The second man ran came running to me at full force, swinging his sword widely and with brute strength. The action spoke volumes- he had little experience with a sword. Judging by his grip, his weapon of choice was a mace. I ducked the first arc easily. He swung again, even more widely this time. He was distracting me, trying to get me to turn my back to the men wielding the crossbow. At least these idiots could work together.

The woman, who was carrying a staff, was circling me trying to use the long, wooden weapon to drop me to my knees. I saw her swing the weapon expertly in my peripheral vision. Jumping to avoid the blow, I watched the swordman's mouth form an 'O' as the staff intercepted his leg. 

The falling giant opened a window for the crossbow man to fire again. I heard the trigger release. Spinning quickly, I grabbed the woman's waist, pulling her in front of me like a human shield. The arrow hit with deadly accuracy. She coughed, reddish black blood spilling from her mouth.

"Anyankah!" A voice called from behind me. Chakotay knew this woman? The thought was quickly quelled at the sound of the crossbow clattered to the ground. The shooter had fallen to his knees in shock. I shrugged as I released the woman, letting her limp body fall to the ground. 

I used the pause in fighting send my boot dagger flying towards the crumbled mass in front of my bedroom door and run the larger swordsman through. The larger man gurgled slightly as I pulled the blade out of him, but made no further sound. No need to check the crossbowman either. The dagger had hit him squarely in the neck. 

By the time I had turned, my tail had made his way to the woman's side. He was stroking her hair affectionately and sobbing like a woman. I pressed the blood soaked blade against his neck. 

"Chakotay," I said, evenly. "Out for a late night stroll?"

His eyes burned with hate and were laced with pain. I laughed at him. "You four really should have brushed up on your skills before you came back. Unless this little side trip was Neelix's idea. Some sort of training exercise?"

His jaw tightened in anger, but he said nothing. "Turn around, hands behind your back," I commanded. His spine stiffened.

For the first time, I allowed my gaze to slip from his. His hand was bleeding. The dagger's blade still embedded between the middle and ring finger's tendons.

I gripped the handle and pulled it out quickly. This time, only a moan escaped his lips. 

"I didn't hit the main line. If I had, you would have bled out." I said 

I paused, looking at the woman he had been cradling like she was precious. She had jet-black hair, brown eyes, and a curvy figure. She was probably a local girl with a complex like that. Her dress was of a pauper or equally low level, but her beauty was remarkable. What a waste.

"Who are these people...or should I say were?"

Again, he said nothing. He just tightened his jaw and kept pawing at her, whispering things in hushed tones. It was bringing unbidden memories. I shook my head to clear my thoughts. 

"This game is getting old, and I didn't have the time or inclination to stand in a hallway all night. Walk," I said, pointing towards Kathryn's room. He cast one last, longing look at the bodies on the floor and obeyed, staying a beat or two ahead of me. 

I tied him onto her vanity's chair using his shirt as a make-shift rope. I was careful to bind his wrists to the arms tight enough that he would loose all feeling in them. 

"We can play this one of two ways: you tell me what I want to know and I kill you quickly, or I torture you until you tell me. My preference is the latter. It's always more fun that way. Course...I'm a little rusty in fine arts. Been awhile since someone's made me pry the information from them," I said, turning from him, wiping his blood off my blade with the remains of his shirt. When he said nothing, I moved to sit across from him on Kathryn's bed.

He had turned his head towards the door, staring at it intently. "Your girlfriend's long gone. She's lost too much blood for the shaman to do anything." No response. Not that I was expecting any.

"This is Kathryn's room," I said, watching his head snap back to look at me. "Course you knew that, didn't you? She really hates you. Can't say that I blame her...I wonder what she'll do when she finds us in here? I could just give you over to her...let her have her way."

I watched his eyes grow large as he shifted in his seat, but he still said nothing. "Wouldn't like that, would you, pillock?" 

§¤§¤☼¤§¤§

By the time Kathryn returned, it was nearly time for sunset. Her eyes went wide at the site of a barely conscious Chakotay, tied to a chair, a small pool of blood beneath him. She looked from him back to me with an unreadable expression in her eyes.

"What happened?" She breathed.

I cocked my head the side and smiled at her. "What's a'matter, ducks, don't like your present?"

Kathryn didn't say anything. She just stood in the doorway, watching me running my favorite dagger over the sharpening stone I always carried in my pocket as a good luck charm. It was then that I suddenly noticed my blood stained hands. Before I realized what was happening, I felt the feather mattress dip beside me. She took my left hand in hers and started cleaning the red off with a wet cloth. I watched her do it, setting the weapons down at my side. When she'd finished, I let one hand trail through her hair and the other cover her knee. I watched her breathing grow ragged, and her eyes flutter closed.

"He was following me, watching us in the garden. He's working for the king," I said in a low voice. "Seems his friends and he were contracted to kill me before I reached the homeland."

I watched her spine stiffen as she pulled away, sobering from the effects of my touch. Siren. 

"Do they know?" She asked. Her eyes filled with fear.

"No," I said, softly. "He has two more waiting in my room to kill me. I'll have to take care of them before morning," I said, pausing for a long moment to look over at Chakotay. He was slowly waking. "You never told me what he did to you."

Her gaze automatically fell to the hands in her lap, and I knew without asking. I didn't want the details- at the very least he beat her. I didn't want to think of anything else. She was, after all, still seen as property. Escaping property at that. While the laws stated she had to be returned, how was Crycus to know what happened to her between the time she was found and returned? 

I covered her hands with one of my own, using the other to tilt her chin up. "Did you mean what you said this morning?" She shot me a confused look. I smiled at her. "Either way I have to kill him. He knows too much. I'm asking you if you want to do this or should I?" 

For some odd reason I felt that I wanted to protect her from all the hurt the world had to offer. I suppose this was my odd way of offering her release. I watched the conflict in her eyes.

"I...I...ugh."

"It's okay if you don't want to, pet," I said, meeting her eyes evenly. "Killing him will change everything. It'll either haunt you or make you crave more, but it won't make you feel any better."

She shook her head slowly. "Then you might want to leave the room or turn away." This time she shook her head in the negative, eyes filled with tears. I shrugged my shoulders. Wasn't my place to question her judgment. I crossed the room to look down at Chakotay. He moaned as I approach, and tensed. I laughed loudly at his pain.

"Told you things would go faster if you gave up the general, mate. Least it's almost over."

"Just a matter of time, Crycus. You're living on borrowed time."

I placed my hands on either side of his head. "Been livin' on borrowed time for awhile now," I said, snapping his neck.


	7. Part VII

  
  
Blood Moon  
Sydney Alexis VII 

After taking out the two fools waiting in my room, I had my guards drag all their bodies out into the center of town and had them prominently displayed. It was a tasteless act that I knew Crycus would do. My men- once Chakotay's- performed the act without complaint. After giving my orders, I took Kathryn back to my room, locking it up tightly. She eyed me warily as I jammed a rather heavy dresser in front of the door.

"You were expecting this, weren't you?"

"Yeah, I was. I knew the king would have at least a handful of people on the inside. I also know I haven't flushed them all out." 

"So that act this morning? That was part of your plan."

"Not all of it. The bit about the king not having the courage to face me was. The fight with Tuvok was gravy." I saw her shudder at this statement, but chose not to call her on it. 

I crossed the room and sat down on the bed a good distance from her. I laid back, resting my head on the pillow, arms tucked beneath my head.

"So what now?"

I sighed. The next step was one I wasn't looking forward to-- too many memories attached. "We go home, pet."

§¤§¤☼¤§¤§

I waited until her breathing was deep and even until I got up. Slipping silently from the bed, I made my way to the escape tunnel and recovered my pauper's wears. I set them on the bed and began divesting. I started with the ridiculous wrap that Crycus' paranoia had led him to wear. Feeling my heated breath against my face and being forced to breath in his scent with every intake of air had effected me in ways that I care not mention, being suddenly free of it made me feel more like myself. More focused.

I untied the belt, careful that the saber was resting beneath the bed. The jacket, pants, tunic, and boots soon met it. I slipped into the muslin tunic, vest, pants, and a worn, leather jacket. Night in the desert was unforgiving to the fool that didn't wear warm layers. 

Pocketing a few dinars, I entered the darkened tunnel out of the castle. I needed time to center my thoughts and plan my next moves carefully-- a difficult task when I had to worry about being attacked while making those plans.

Exiting the tunnel, I was greeted by the biting cold that sunset brought. The winds were howling through the thick patches of trees the locals mistook for a 'forest.' I suppose having grown up in a climate that inhospitable to man, beast, and foliage alike, natives would make the assumption that a smattering of trees growing near a tributary's off-shoot is a forest. I thought of this place more a filthy little oasis. Filthy in that the sand was firmly ingrained into every aspect of life. Every home's floor was covered in grit. No matter how much the homemaker swept, it would still seep in through the tiniest of cracks. Personal hygiene was another matter. It was easier to detect assailants by their smell. Baths were rare in the desert. Water is and always will be a luxury item. The first use...the only use is for drinking. Children are taught that from a young age; don't waste water. Unfortunately, even those right off a river bank didn't seem to understand that this riverbed was filled with water. That it would continue to be, and that, any enemy that is upwind of them would know their exact location. All the better for me I suppose. It made it easier to keep track of guards' location. 

By the pink in the sky and the smell in the air, I knew instinctively that a heavy storm was approaching. I paused a moment to let my eyes finish adjusting to the new amount of light and then headed for the north wall. Pulling me daggers from the laces in my boots, I climbed up the wall as I did the previous night. This time, however, I ran into a guard. He was hidden by the shadows, smoking a cigarette. The smoke from it swirled in the air as he drew in a deep drag from the lighted tobacco. 

I approached him from behind and waited silently until he released one, final puff of smoke from his lips. He dropped the remnants on the ground in front of him, snuffing the end out with the tip of his shoe. Smiling, I stepped forward and covered his mouth before he could scream. 

Dropping my voice low and deep I growled into his ear, "Shouldn't smoke those; they'll kill you. Then again, you're livin' on borrowed time." Clamping my hands around his left shoulder, I used the hand covering his mouth to twist his neck. I stepped back from him and out of the tower, flipping from the ledge into the darkened alley. 

I strolled through the streets, staying in the shadows, watching drunken men stagger from one tavern to the next in search of another drink. I finally stumbled across a small inn whose entrance was poorly marked and had few patrons inside. Cautiously, I walked in and took a seat in the far right corner. The table's candle was unlit, and it was a good distance from the fireplace. Slipping onto the seat, I was surprised to see a young girl looking down at my expectantly. 

"What can I get you, sir?" she asked.

I swallowed hard when I looked at her. She had auburn hair, dark eyes, well tanned skin, slender build. She reminded me of someone, but I couldn't place who. Something was a little too off. Pushing that thought aside, I looked up at her and smiled. "Got anything to eat?" I asked, letting a rough color come into my voice. 

"Yeah. Couscous. Not sure what all else Ellie has made. I can check?" she suggested. I nodded. "Bring me whatever's made already and a tankard of mead."

I watched her as she walked away. Her hips swaying like a well-experienced wench. I paused, sitting quietly in the corner, and listened to the sounds around me-- pots being sorted through and cleaned in the kitchen, the floorboards creaking as the bar maid filled my drink, the soft murmurs of patrons speaking in hushed tones, and the screams of passion coming from the second floor. Figured this place was more than an inn. Would explain the location. Word had it that Crycus was so whipped by the king that he had seen to it that the more sinful of businesses had been stopped. Places like this thought...they always operated behind closed doors. When the inspectors came 'round, it was nothing more than an inn. Grease the right palm with a few dozen dinars and this place is ripe for business. Not that I was complaining or anything. I'd seen my fair share of these places in the past. Never was looking for any sort of a relationship. Those brought all sorts of unnecessary little tags on them that I wanted nothing to do with. Had to take the girl out, show her a good time, hell...even had to marry them before they put out. No...these girls were simple-- pay up front, tell them what you want, have a good time, and leave in the morning. No string attached. 

The first bit of mead went down quickly and hit my empty stomach. I hadn't eaten all day. Been too busy killing to notice just how hungry I was until I smelled the food on the plate in front of me. I knew it would probably end up on a street somewhere after I'd had my fill of mead, but I didn't care. It tasted good going down. 

The wench returned with another glass of mead. Was it the third or fourth? I'd lost count. Dimly aware that I should, in fact, be cutting back on my consumption. Need to keep a clear head. Come up with a plan and all that. The girl was still there, hovering. I offer her a seat across from me, which she takes. It must be getting late. The place is filling up. There are more girls circling 'round the tables.

"What's your name, handsome?" she asked me in a heavy accent.

I tilt my head to the side. Should be an instant response, but the truth is that I really don't have one. Proteus is dead. Same for Thomas. I can't say Crycus. That would give my game away. I smile at her...that cheap, fake smile that makes women melt for some reason. Not all. Kathryn never fell for it. Suppose I'll have to amend that. Bruised ego and all that. It might have been that she was aware of others' moods enough to know that it's all an act-- kept her alive all those years. "William," I provided. She returned my smile.

"You are not from here, eh?" 

I take a long swig from the mug in front of me, feeling more than a little buzzed. "No. Not from here." 

It's the same game every time; get drunk enough that her features blur, pay off her pimp, slip up the stairs, and pretend that, at least for one night, I am my old self and I am loved by someone. Just for that one night, I can pretend that I am a righteous man and that I have a country to return home to. Funny that the only time I can every really feel anything is when I'm fornicating with whores I've known less than a few hours or killing a man. The rush is the same. The outcome is different. 

She doesn't look like Lanna when I look up at her. She doesn't look like Yuling either. Her rough, calloused hand reached across the table, drawing me back from my thoughts. 

"Not one for talking, are you?" she said, softly. 

"No. Not really."

"Maybe if you did, it would make things easier," she prodded. "I always find that it does."

I was tempted to tell her, but I stopped myself. I made that mistake once; told a whore bits and piece of my life. Not all of it. Just the highlights. It was enough to make her cry and back away from me with that look in her eyes. The fear came off of her in waves. She couldn't handle it. I knew thatgoin' into it, but it just felt so damned good. Learned my lesson from her though—she tried to turn me in. Maybe I should have let her. 'Stead I had a full blown mob after me. They were out for my blood. I escaped- barely. Shacked up with Duessa for a bit while I healed up. She was glad to see me. Even helped me take the bint out when I'd healed. 

My glance fell on the girl's again. She was looking at me expectantly. Maybe I should have told her to sod off, but somewhere between the alcohol buzzing around in my system and the dim lighting, it finally struck me who she reminds me of. Maybe a little fuller in the bust, a little younger and thinner in the face, and her eyes were a few shades too dark, but there was some level of resemblance. I reached out one trembling hand and caressed her cheek. 

"Kathryn," I murmured.

"If you want me to be," she said softly. I nodded slowly, drawing the dinars from the pouch at my belt and threw them on the table. She turned from me for a moment to catch the owner's attention then gently took my hand in hers to guide me up the stairs. 

§¤¤§

Twenty three steps from the table I was at to the base of the staircase. Seventeen steps 'til we reached the landing. Another fifty to reach the last room on the left. It had a simple, iron frame bed, a worn mattress, and windows that were covered with tattered cloth. None of that matter though. I was here only for her, only for the action. Three candles are lit by the bed's side. The wax was dripping, unchecked into a swirling mass of white, red, and green onto the gritty floor. 

Her arms wound around my neck, running through the closely shorn hair at the nape of my neck. Her lips descend onto my earlobe alternating between kissing, licking, and biting the overly-sensitive skin. "What do you want me to do, William?" She asked, dipping her voice low. 

My hands grasp her hips, dragging her firmly against me. "Be her," I heard myself say. "Be Kathryn."

I closed my eyes then and let the alcohol seep through my veins and fog my mind. Her hands push lightly on my chest, guiding my vest from my shoulders and backing my up against the wall. Small, warm little hands with nimble fingers sought and found the base of my tunic, gliding the fabric up and over my head. 

She pressed herself against me, forcing me to open my eyes in reaction. Her tiny hips ground against mine. It had been too long since I had last been with a woman. I grit my teeth against each other, trying to keep my focus. Warm lips suddenly met mine and the rough surface of her tongue ran over the soft tissue of my lips, begging for entrance. 

"Let yourself go," she whispered, and I did. I grabbed her wrist a little rougher than I intended to and reversed our positions. My lips traveled to the hollow of her neck and worked upward to the pulse point of her neck. I licked the flesh there, cooling the blood pounding just beneath the surface. Her hands scored through my hair and she let out a gasp. She was burning beneath my touch, panting hard, neck arched back, begging for release. Minx. I took her against the wall the first time. Her bare back burned and bruised by the stones she was rocked against. It was wild and animalistic and short-lived. We both screamed out names into the cavernous room, but neither one was for the other. 

I stayed with her long after she had fallen asleep, curled up by my side. I suppose she wasn't use to the extremes I'd taken her through-- slow and soft, rough and fast. I used her like I'd used the mug that had held my mead. When I was drunk enough to believe that she was Kathryn, I had treated her like a thing of beauty, now that I was sober, I thought of her as what she was-- a whore. 

I slipped from the bed and dressed quickly, stopping at the bar to fill my flask with ale. Dawn was fast approaching and the castle workers would begin to stir soon. It was nearly time to get back. With one last, regretful glace at the tavern's alley, I made my way toward the castle gates that were being opened for morning delivery. I walked out into the grounds that surrounded the walled city without an odd look from the guards. Blind idiots made this so easy it was pathetic. 

I headed back toward the passage opening and then paused to be sick by the wall. I smelled of tobacco, mead, and sex. I was the prime example for a sermon by a priest in the one-god's temple. Funny that. The common man and wealthy man alike attend mass to listen to a priest speak of the sinful acts that man commits and how any man that partakes in them will go to hell, but all the while he is speaking in a language the common man can't understand and speaking a message that the nobility doesn't want to hear. In essence, he is as useful as good mead; makes you feel better about yourself when you're there, but, afterwards leaves a nasty taste in your mouth and feeling dirty. 

In need of a bath, I continued to walk along the riverbank until I was out of sight from most passers-by. Stripping down once again, I dove into the frigid waters of the tributary. I felt the cold sink straight into my bones making my well worn muscles ache. It didn't make me feel any cleaner, just lessened the evidence. 

I trudged my body out of the waters and dressed quickly, pausing near the bank to look up at the pink-tinged sky. Still shivering from my swim, I lit a fire beside the shore and stared into it. I sat silently for a long moment, gathering my thoughts. I hated introspection. I hated being alone. It almost always meant that I would start thinking about the past-- the things that I had done and the conscience that was still, in part, active would haunt me. I kept myself surrounded by people as often as possible. I kept my mind focused on one task and then the next. Only when it was idle did the memories surface, unbidden and cruel. I'd force them aside, delve deeper into the demon I was becoming and move further away from the man that I was. I lived in the moment of death then. In the blade that cut through my victim. My motives were done out of a warped since of duty to protect, love, and remember my family, but the act was in violence itself. I lived solely in the realm of justice not temperance then. I was no longer supposed to feel anything. I was just supposed to act. The longer I stared into that fire though, the longer that I began to doubt myself. 

My conscience kept going back to my actions a few hours ago. Guilt like I hadn't experienced in some time filled me. In the past, I had superimposed Yuling and Lanna's image onto each woman in a search for solace, but this was nothing more than raw, overpowering need. I had closed my eyes and pictured it was her. I moved inside that whore picturing it was her. I'd called out her name as I came, seeing those clouded gray eyes that held so much pain behind them. It was lust. Nothing more. I didn't need for it to be any more. I didn't need any more distractions. I had a task; finish avenging my family's death. After that, nothing mattered. 

I replayed the scene in my head again. The small, simple, but heavily loaded question Kathryn had asked me after I told her I intended on going back home. 

"What will you do after you kill the king?" she asked. Her eyes were downcast as if she already knew the answer was one that she didn't want to hear. I turned my head so that all I could see was the ceiling, my hands laced together on my stomach.

"Never really thought that part of the plan through, pet. Never like to make plans that I'm pretty sure I won't be around long to see."

"Why do you say that?" she asked, turning towards me. I swear I could feel her eyes boring into me. 

"Way I see it; I've made a lot of enemies over the years. I'll probably have to keep moving to stay alive. Might find some land way out in the country, take a rest for a few days, and hunt up some family that has a grudge against me. Always wanted to go out with a fight."

"So that's it? That's all you want--vengeance and then to die? Even believing in the old ways you have to realize that Hades will judge you and put you among the wicked."

I sighed. I'd had this fight with myself more times that I could count. I sure as hell didn't want to have it with her. "Yeah, pet, I know. Figured as much. He'll probably torture me for eternity by making me walk through that house again... Find my family like I did that day, or some big noise like that. He always did have a flare for the big and flashy. Never was my favorite god."

Instead of correcting me like I was expecting her to do, she just laughed. "Zeus isn't much better," she said. I raised my eyebrow at her in disbelief, silently asking her to explain herself. 

"He's always running around, cheating on his wife. Never once taking into consideration the fact that he's using all the women that he sleeps with, creating children that he knows will be a target to his enemies and to his wife, and only sometimes stepping in to protect them. Honestly, he's selfish."

I lowered my head. The words hitting a little too close to home. I was too busy fighting for the king to be there to save my own family like I had sworn before God and family. Sensing my distress, she returned to the original discussion. 

"You could always build yourself a new identity or take back your old one. Start a new life."

I shook my head. "The Tom Paris that everyone knew and loved is dead," I said simply, trying to close the conversation. Of course Kathryn rarely would back down from an argument with me when she thought that she had a chance of winning. 

"You never know. Something small might change things," she said, giving me a kind, sweet, and suggestive smile. I didn't rise to her bait that time. 

"And what? I kill the king and take his place? Or go back to being the farmer like my father?"

"What would be wrong with that?" she said, seriously.

"Making myself the king would mean that I and anyone that I cared for would be marked as a target. Living my life as a farmer would mean the same thing. I would be out in the open for anyone with a grudge to find," I said, titling my head and offering her an earnest smile. "I've thought this all through, pet. There's not many options for the likes of me."

"Well...you could always live as you do now; travel from place to place."

"And do what, love? Kill warlords? Make cities safer for the people who live in them? Hire myself out as a mercenary? Take the side of the group with the most monetary resources? Or do you mean fight for the side of the right and good an' all that? Because, if that's what you mean, fat chance. I'll take profit over penance any day."

"Is that all those were to you? Jobs? And what do you do with the money, 'pet?' Buy mead to pour down your throat to drown the pain?"

I clenched my jaw and tightened my hands into tight fists. "Do you really want to know what I spent the money on? Do you?" 

She looked up at me with that stare-- the one that was filled with pity, loathing, and a third emotion I wouldn't acknowledge. I swallowed hard and continued on. "Food, weapons, ale, and companionship...at least for a few hours. The type I made no promises to. The type I don't have to worry about being taken from me."

And with that the stare changed to anger and confusion. I softened my gaze on her and cupped her face with my hand with the gentleness that I seldom showed. "I lost everything," I said in a hushed voice. "And I've turned into a killer. You can't expect me to flip a switch and return to the man that I once was. It's impossible, love." 

"So the man became a monster that can never be redeemed? I find that hard to believe. There has to be some of Thomas left inside you."

"What makes you say that?"

Covering my hand with her own, she smiled. "You could have killed me the other night, but you didn't. You could have kept me in the dark about your past, but you didn't. Just when I was convinced that you were some sort of killer and nothing more you show this incredibly soft side. For the first time in my life, I can look into a man's eyes and see myself as something more than what I am." 

She turned on her side then and feigned sleepiness to avoid any further discussion. I suppose we were both unprepared for the candidness that we'd shared from the beginning of this arrangement. She sought escape in sleep and I sought it in the company of a woman that I pretended to be her. 

§¤Ø¤§

Kathryn was still asleep when I returned. A small smile played at the corner of her lips. I couldn't help but envy her. Morpheus had always sent me nightmares to torment me at night. Sometimes they were events drawn from my past and others were events to come. Invariably, I would awake with a start, my heart pounding madly in my chest, and breath coming quickly. They stay with my to this day. Maybe they are penance. Maybe they are meant to keep me from the acts that I commit anyway. 

My body was slowly betraying me. I had gone nearly two days without sleep, and, though I knew I could last longer without, I needed my mind to be sharp. Dread filled me as I stripped down to my pantaloons and climbed into bed. Heavy eyelids drew closed quickly, the world shifted to darkness, and the ghastly scenes began filtering in. 

I was in my homeland again, searching for one of Crycus' supporters-- an informant that had given the location of my home village, a description of my family, and had insured that I would be the one to find their bodies. His name was Dacian, and he was the king's military advisor. 

As a page, I was taught to respect him, to follow his orders to the last detail, and, as a knight, I had blindly continued to do so. It wasn't until I heard his name uttered from the lips of a man I had tortured for answers that I began to question my trust in him, that I began to suspect that something more was involved in this. It was then that the proverbial wool was drawn from my eyes and I saw that all men were capable of evil and how truly naïve I had been. 

I sought him out like I had with all of my other victims. After shadowing him for two days, I had learned his schedule in intimate detail. He was a creature of habit-- awaking at the same time every day, saying his prayers at sunrise, noon, and sunset, and he never left the castle walls. Such a sheltered life. He planned strategies for battlefields that he would never see and saw to it that the king's men had the weapons needed to attack. He convinced men to join or drafted them into service with empty promises of high pay and land that they would never live to see. Widows would come begging for their dead lover's pay and he would laugh and turn them away. After all, women were property and an intimate object couldn't own anything. 

I struck when the moon was at its highest point, sneaking past the guards in my pauper's wears to Dacian's chambers. He and his wife were fast asleep. Their nine month old boy was in a bassinet only a few feet away. I licked my lips in anticipation; it wasn't every day that I was able to kill off an entire family line in a few hours. Striking quickly and accurately, I covered the wife's mouth with the flat of my hand. Her eyes shot wide open and locked on to mine. 

"I'm going to move my hand. Make a sound and I'll kill all three of you before the guards break down the door. Understand?"

She nodded slowly, eyes still wide with fear. Seeing it, sensing it roll off of her in waves was intoxicating. Rather than screaming, she fainted. Typical high society woman. Fighting the urge to laugh, I tied her up to the exposed beams in their room. Her head lolled forward, she looked like a rag doll that was being carried by the arm rather than a grown woman. 

I dealt with the child next. Dacian had seen to it that the soldiers knew to kill my entire line. I couldn't help but extend the same courtesy. Using the wife's still-warm pillow, I covered the little bugger's face and held it firmly in place. He went in his sleep without any pain. Seemed unfair considering how my children suffered, but a crying child would wake Dacian up before I had all the fun and games ready. 

Walking to the side of the bed, I found the wife's chamber pot, grabbed the handles, and reversed the porcelain so that the contents emptied over the pounce's head. As expected, he awoke with a jerk, gasping for breath. When the stench caught up to his senses, he turned towards me, preparing to shout. His eyes darted from my large smile to his wife behind him.

"Thomas? What is the meaning of this?"

"Thomas is it? Awfully informal way to address someone that is in my position, don't you think? I was thinking something more along the lines of Sir Paris or perhaps Proteus. That's the name I'm going by these days," I said, watching his eyes grow wide. 

"Recognize the name, do you? It really is all an interesting story, but I'm afraid that I don't have time to go into details. Just a few hours until your guards come by to check on you, and I don't fancy having to fight my way out of the castle. My sword gets so dull so quickly." 

He held my gaze while I spoke then ventured a fast glace at his wife. This amused me to no end. "Like the show, milord?" I said, adding as much venom as I could to his title. "It's almost how I found my wife. Except I haven't gotten a chance to eviscerate her yet."

At this, she began to wail loudly. I approached her, a wide smile tainting my lips. "He didn't tell you that story, did he, love? How he told Crycus' men where to find my family. Gave the order himself. I found Lanna in my barn trussed up like a pig at the butcher's," I said, letting the cold steel of my sword kiss her pale cheek. Her eyes darted from mine to his and back. "But that wasn't the worst of it...no, love, he had to kill the whole village including my children. 

"P-Please," she ventured. "Take my life but spare my child's."

I laughed. "Girl's got fire, Dacian. I'll give her that," I said, turning toward her. I left her side and moved to the bassinet to look at the unmoving corpse. "He killed everyone in my village including my children," I said, looking up to meet Dacian's hate-filled stare. "Didn't want any witnesses. Brilliant statistical move to protect whomever you're working for, but every action has it's consequences, mate." 

I reached down and pulled the child from the pile of covers it was under and carried it to the bed, noting that it was still warm to my touch. "Did Miral and Johnathan scream when Crycus' men split them open? Did you even ask how it was done?"

Feeling daring, he reached out and pulled the baby into his grasp. The look of fear on his face melted into disbelief then anger and confusion. It really was priceless. 

"You killed him. You killed Nathan. He was only a boy." This set the woman wailing even louder, but the sound was drowned out by my laughter. "Yeah. What of it?"

"He was an innocent."

The laughter died on my lips and the blood rage took over. My demon screamed for blood and it wouldn't be denied. "There are no innocents in this world. You or whoever took him would have corrupted him just like you did to me. Kind of funny if you think about it; your programs taught me how to fight...at least the basics, and now I'm going to use those skills against you."

"You wouldn't dare. The King will have his men looking for you as soon as they find me dead."

"He's already looking for me...Proteus that is. Has a hefty reward for me for killing Tom Paris," I laughed and walked back towards his wife. She was still crying, but softly now.

"It's true, isn't it? He really did do those things."

"Yeah, pet, he did." 

I felt rather than saw the old man rise out of bed and grab his sword. He was coming towards me, trying to use stealth so I wouldn't detect him. 

"Then why kill me? I didn't do anything."

"You've seen too much," I said. With that, Dacian attacked me from behind, using his full force to bring down the blade. His forward momentum was enough to flip him onto the ground in front of me, the sword clamoring against the stone floor. A defeated look crossed his face as I stepped onto and over him to reach his wife. The sharpened edge of my sword sliced through her, a final breath escaping her lungs as her life poured from her.

"That's how I found her," I said, turning towards Dacian. A heartbeat passed as the old man looked from the bed where his dead child lay to me to his wife and back again. A slow, howl escaped the man's throat. He reached into his belt to draw his dagger. Not to avenge their deaths but to end the pain. I let him to it. There was no greater dishonor for a warrior in our culture than to take their own life. 

I watched the blood pour from his chest wound and the empty look enter his eyes. The hilt of the dagger beat back and forth with the beat of his heart. Its intervals grew further apart until there was nothing left. 

Heavy boots clattered towards the door, drawing me from my reverie. I leapt from the window and out onto the streets of my sire's land, mounted my ride, and rode hard to the nearest stream to clean up. My boat would be leaving in the morning.

Next 


	8. Part VIII

  
  
Blood Moon  
Sydney Alexis VIII 

I roused slowly the next morning, feeling the warmth of a body beside me. I opened my eyes and was slightly confused. My sleep-deprived body was taking revenge on me in the form of a blinding migraine. Slowly, the memories of the previous day came flooding back to me-- meeting Kathryn, killing Crycus, becoming him, the assassination attempt, and visiting the brothel. I groaned at the last thought remembering with perfect clarity how many drinks I had imbibed. I racked a hand through my mussed hair as I mentally berated myself of doings something so stupid. I didn't need anything to break my concentration. 

I chanced a glance at Kathryn who was still deep asleep. Her body was curled up beside mine and her small hand was lying on my bare chest. Not a horrible way to wake up, but one that would lead to unbidden thoughts. Slipping silently from the bed, I dressed in another one of Crycus' ensembles-- a soft ivory color this time, and lowered myself onto the large chaise on the far side of the room. Normally I would have simply gone down to breakfast, but moving the dresser would wake Kathryn, and I knew for a fact that these next few weeks would be particularly trying for her. 

My hand went to the inner pocket in my jacket and withdrew my wife's letters. For the first time in months, I actually ventured a look at them. I idly noted how stained they had become from handling. Sighing, I unfolded the top one and began reading.

My Dearest Thomas,

I hope that this letter finds you well and in good spirits. I know that word of your family is scarce where you are, but the Jenkins boy is making a delivery of supplies to your area and I begged him to smuggle word to you. 

As you know little Miral has been reading for a few months now as well as discovering old childhood games. Most recently, she mastered hide-and-go-seek. I must also admit to having trouble keeping up with her. She loves to weave through your father's fields while playing with your sisters' children. She also has been asking after you. Both she and I miss you terribly.

I also write to tell you that the Beltane rights were more effective that we thought they would be. My courses have not come across me in several cycles of the moon, and the village shaman believes me to be with child. 

I heard from Shelia's boy that the war is not going as well as expected and that, last he heard, you were in the front lines. Dacian sent word that he would allow you to return home soon to visit us, but that he wasn't sure when. It is my sincere hope that he allows you to return home for the holidays. Mrs. Wright is making roasted pig this year and has invited both I and Miral to her home. __

I'll keep a candle burning in the window on Winter Solstice and pray to the Goddess to bring you home safe.__

With Love,

Lanna 

I felt a warm hand cover my own, but didn't register to whom is belonged to. Slender fingers reach out and brush away stray tears I hadn't even realized were falling.

"You still carry her letters?" Her voice was soft and filled with understanding instead of accusation and disgust.

"Yes."

"My father used to send those home while he was away in the war. He'd tell my mother all about the place he was stationed... the trees... the flowers...the animals... the towns that his men visited. Even the food."

There was a distance to her voice. A sharp edge it took on as she continued and then abruptly stopped. She didn't need to tell me what happened next; I had lived through it. I didn't tell her though. I'd lived in this world long enough to know that sometimes it felt good to confess. 

"Then my father was sent to the front lines. He only spoke of how much he missed us, and promised my mother that none of his sons would ever go through what he was." Her eyes welled with tears as she spoke, but she denied them their escape as she blinked them back. I watched her jaw clench with sudden anger. "He didn't care what the cost was," she added softly.

I let a pause follow, knowing that she needed to tell me the last bit of the story. After trying non-verbal cues to get her to continue, I lifted her chin so that our eyes met and asked her point blank. "What happened, pet?"

She looked at me with an expression that was haunted. I swear it was a reflection of my own in the early days. Sitting up straighter in the seat beside me, she turned her gaze to the stone floor. "What was it you told me the other day about woman only being property? I was a thing that could be bought or sold or given away in exchange for favors..." 

Clearing her throat, she continued. "My father was badly wounded while not far from the shoreline, and he returned home to be with my mother, sister, and I. Several cycles of the moon came and went, and my mother became heavy with child. The local shaman told my father that it would be a strong male to carry on the family name. 

"'Course, my father set about to make sure that his boy would never have to fight in the wars. He started by making preludes to Lord Davenant...a dear friend of his and the man under whom he had served under. After several months of chats, he agreed to set up audience with the king. 

"By that time, I was eleven winters my father already had plans for both me and my sister, Phoebe." 

Kathryn was so distant then, staring into the stone floor, battling her voice to remain neutral. I knew from experience that some memories cut deep. Without thinking, I drew her to me, her head resting against my chest, her arms hanging loosely at her side. She didn't fight me, just looked up at me with disbelief in her watery eyes. I offered her a smile, silently encouraging her to continue.

"He came home after one of his long dialogues with Davenant and began packing clothes into a small saddlebag. My mother didn't question what he was doing until he opened the small chest that held our dowries. He looked from her to us and back again, and then ordered us to go play in the fields. Even from that distance, we could hear them yelling...and him hitting her.

"It was nearly sundown before he yelled for us. I grabbed my sister's hand and we ran back to the house. He was there, waiting for us, loading the last of my things onto the wagon. Mother didn't come out to meet us. She stood in the window, wearing an eye that was blackened and swollen shut. Her lip was caked with dry blood and her dress was torn. She mouthed the words 'I love you both,' as Phoebe and I climbed into wagon beside my father. 

"We arrived at the king's palace ten days later. Our bags were taken and the two of us were ushered into the kitchen to eat." Kathryn offered a faint smile then, turning to look at me with haunted eyes. I resumed stroking her arm lightly as she started her story again. "My sister and I made pigs of ourselves; father hadn't packed enough food for us, and he ate most of it. Said we were both too fat and greedy. But how the servants fussed over us! Filling our bellies until we were sleepy. The woman assigned to take care of us were so good to Phoebe and I. Saw to it that we were never hungry and that we had brand new, freshly washed dresses. They even took us to the royal bath to be sure that we were properly bathed like we were ladies. Our hair was curled and coifed in the style of the time, and the attendants helped us get dressed."

I watched as a fond smile crept across her lips. Her voice had taken on a lighter tone as she recalled these women, but I dreaded where her story would led. 

"It was early afternoon before we were totally seen to. Both Phoebe and I were eager to explore the castle, but a young, male servant came to our room to collect us from the attendants. He lead us through a labyrinth of halls that were all brightly lit with torches, and the walls were covered in ornate tapestries every hundred cubits are so. Finally, we arrived at a set of double doors at the very end of a hall. Without a word, he knocked, waited for a response, and then ushered us in. 

"Imagine my surprise to find a full library! It was like my own personal paradise. Never had I imagined so many books could exist in one place. Shelf and shelf filled to the brim with ancient writings. Some in foreign tongues I didn't recognize. And there, in the center of it all, was Lord Mercator, our tutor. Under the king's orders, my sister and I were taught everything from art to music to mathematics and a few foreign languages-- French, German, and Latin. He also saw to it that we had the manners of a member of the court. We continued like that, Phoebe and me, for four years. Our days were spent in the library, deep in studies, and the evenings we would practice our sewing, embroidery, and cooking. 

"Three days shy of my fifteenth year, I was summoned into the king's royal chamber. It was the first time that I was to see him, and I was rather excited about the idea. Phoebe remained in the library that afternoon while I was led to the king," she paused to look up into my face, pain etched all over her features. "I was so naive to think that I could receive an education for nothing. So silly to forget what my mother's face had looked like that morning. She wouldn't have fought my father so completely if there was no reason behind it," Kathryn's body grew stiff against mine. I knew that this build up wasn't without cause, and I felt my stomach twist as I waited from her to continue. 

"When I entered, I did just as I was trained to do-- bow deeply, stated his title, and reminded him that he had sent for me. He nodded and called me forward. Slowly, I approached, never forgetting my station. He smiled at me with a large toothy grin, and I was struck with how ugly he was: deep set, beady eyes; a large, wide, crooked nose; black, stringy hair; ornate dress in red brocade; and his jewelry was worth enough to feed my home village for years." 

My chest tightened at her description. It seemed all too familiar. "Solomon?" I breathed. Kathryn nodded. "And he was presenting me to Crycus." 

"Oh, Kathryn, I had no idea," I said, rubbing the back of her hand with my thumb. She smiled weakly. "We were married the next evening, and, by the end of the week, I was on a ship bound for here," she said, pausing. Tears finally began to spill over her cheeks. "Least I got to say goodbye to Phoebe." 

We sat for a long moment in virtual silence. I held her as she cried and I tried to process what she had told me. Her father had given his daughters up for his unborn son. 

"What happened to Phoebe?" 

She cleared her throat. "She grew up, became one of the king's mistresses, and was well taken care of until he married. Then, she became a nanny of Lord Davenant's little girl. Rumor had it that she was sent away because she was with child, but Phoebe never told me." 

"You still write her?" 

"From time to time. It's difficult to get word that far out." 

"And what became of your family?" 

A cruel smile twisted at her lips. "My mother lost the child while my father was bringing us to the king's. The town's shaman was nearly convinced that the beating he gave her before we left was the cause. Of course, my father blamed my mother. Said she wanted it to happen. Two more children were born between them. Both boys. Both stillborn. Last I heard, my father was drowning himself in the bottom of a bottle." 

"And your mother?" 

Face full of regret, eyes awashed with new tears, she spoke. "My mother lost herself. Her only children were stolen, and she was so worried that she'd have more girls that she sent sacrifices to Demeter to only send her boys. Suppose it worked. She ended up have quite a few miscarriages. All the while my father beat her. Told her she was ungrateful whore. 

"Phoebe and I would send her letters. Tell her that we were happy, but she didn't believe it...or didn't want to believe it. Not sure I do. She was the only person that's loved me...my whole life. Everyone else only sees a price when they look at me." 

"Wouldn't say that, pet." She raised her eyebrow at me, silently asking me to explain myself. "It's true. You're smart and strong. Have to have been to still be alive. You have an uncanny ability to wrap men around your little finger." She laughed. "Think about it, love. You're miles from that old farmer's village you grew up in, dressed in fabrics that you would have only touched as a seamstress to a court member. You have servants like any other lady..." 

"But I am miles from my family, married to a man that has several wives already..." 

"Who saw to it that you had an education. That in and of itself is rare, and you know it. You managed to escape your station, and, yes, Crycus had more than one wife, but the old ways, which you still follow, permit it. Besides, you said yourself that they helped take care of you and you them. Think about how much worse it would have been if you had been his only wife-- taking the brunt of his beatings, him always calling on you to warm his bed, him expecting you to produce an heir just as your father did with your mother..." 

She lapsed into silence, curling up in my embrace like a small cat. I couldn't help but think that she had been aptly named. Smiling to myself, I let her be, allowing her time to mull over what I had told her. I simply stroked her hair and watched her chest rise and fall. The quiet was broken several candle marks later by the sound of her stomach growling. 

"Suppose you'll have to rearrange the furniture so we can go down to breakfast," she said against my chest. I felt her lips twist into a small smile. 

"Can do, pet," I said, starting to extricate myself from her with great difficulty. Her hand on my chest stopped me. I looked down at her. "Can we stay like this? Just for awhile longer. I haven't been held like this since the ship left port," I nodded, shifting in my seat until we were both comfortable again. "Crycus was so kind to me that night. He let me stay on the deck until long after my homeland was no more than a blip in the distance. Kept his arms wrapped around me, let me cry myself out of tears. He could be so tender like that. In those unguarded moments where none of his men were there to judge his manliness. But other times...other times he was so cruel. It was like he had two sides. This cold calculating side that could beat me until my back was bloodied and begging him to stop, and there were times that his generosity overwhelmed me." 

I continued to stroke her hair and hold her, listening to her mourn a man that I had spent the majority of my life hating. I suppose in her own odd way she loved him. Probably the same type of relationship she had with her father; she hated some of the acts that he committed, but there were moments that he treated her like his little girl. She'd listened to my confessions already. There was no way that I wouldn't return the same to her. 

"He let me go back to my homeland with him several years ago. He had business with the king, and my little sister was still there in the king's care. I traveled with him and got to spend two weeks with her. Just like old times. The two of us were inseparable. Phoebe had grown into quite the woman. Tall, curvy, with long red hair and the same big, green, eyes that held so much emotion. I could tell she was happy; the king loved her and showered her with dresses and gifts. Everything her heart desired. Provided she never told a soul what they did in his chamber at night," Kathryn laughed at the memory. "We were so happy there. Phoebe, Crycus, and myself. The king doted on the three of us. Kept winking at me and saying that including me in his deal with Crycus had been a bad idea if I were anything like my sister in the chamber. 

"My manners and knowledge in things discussed at dinner impressed them both. With the use of one of Phoebe's gowns, I was able to slip into the court and be accepted as one of their own. The only give away was the accent I had acquired from living here. Just seemed to make me all the more foreign territory. Then, Crycus came in and took my arm, guiding me away from all the admirers I had acquired that evening. Together, we danced a _Volta_ that was so provocative the bishop in attendance said that we stunk of sin." 

I tried to control my laughter so as not to interrupt her story, but the rumbles in my chest gave me again. She paused to cast a fond look at me. "Rather tall man with a beard and thick, black moustache. Looked as though he was old enough to have been fashioned by the gods, themselves?" 

She bit her lower lip, trying to recall. "Had this large, brass walking stick?" I laughed even harder. "That was Bishop Grundyism. He was the man that called my appointment to the knighthood a mistake, and that my entire family was formed in sin. The king expected us to go to his sermons every fortnight at the very least, and every time he saw me there he'd make it a point to tell his congregation that those that didn't ask the lord's blessing on marriages were living in sin, that any child born of such a union was a bastard child, and that the only way into the kingdom of heaven was through prayer and confessional," I said, and then elaborated at her confused look. "Lanna's parents and my own were pagans. We were both raised in that belief system. So she and I hand fasted rather than being married in a church. In the eyes of Christians, she and I were common-law." 

"But Solomon made you one of his knights?" 

"Solomon might be a treacherous old coot, but he wasn't a fool. I was and still am a damned good fighter. He knew that if he turned me away from his castle and from my studies that I was determined enough of a boy to find another side to side that was willing to continue my training. At least that was what my sponsor told him to convince him to let me stay. Solomon's little proviso was that both myself and my family had to attend mass every so many days to keep the court from whispering too much." 

"Crycus was the same way. The pair of us slept through the first mass we were expected to attend. After a good row from the king, we showed up at the next rite. I was in my dressing gown, under Crycus' orders, and he was in knee breeches and a smile. This time the bishop asked us to leave and not return. He called us both barbarians that would burn forever in the fires of hell. Crycus just laughed, tossed me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and announced the congregation that he was going to spend the rest of the morning doing what he wanted to do in the first place-- cavorting with his wife in as many positions as he could think of. At least I had the good decency to blush." 

"I wonder if you were as bright a shade as you are now, pet." She laughed at that."Probably not. Crycus didn't care though. He knew that the king needed him and his army." 

I grew stiff against her as she recalled the army. Craning her neck to look at me she asked me what was wrong. "Timeline's all wonky." Her eyebrows nit in confusion and I explained. "All of this...you being sent to the king, marrying Crycus...the timetable's a little off. Why wouldn't the king strike with his new found army? Why trust Crycus for longer than he had to?" 

"We know that the king has spies here, hidden among the men..." 

"Yeah, but there's got to be something more. It was wise to place some space between forming a compact and taking action because he needed their target to get comfortable with the idea that Crycus was only an eccentric friend, but why so much time?" 

"I don't know. Maybe he's planning something else. Something larger? Solomon seemed pretty determined for me to like him." 

"And he's not stupid enough to try and kidnap you or seduce you. That would only be received with Crycus' ire and dissolve any treaty they had. But I know Solomon. He doesn't waste time on things he won't get. That leaves one thing..." 

"He's planning on playing both sides against the middle. Taking out both you and the other sides' general." 

"And gaining twice the land for half the trouble. Spot-on, kitten." 

"Better step up training on the troops, and start teaching you." 

"Me?" 

"I don't know what the king's got planned, but, whatever it is, it might mean you'll have to get yourself out of a bad situation. I can't guarantee that I'll always be with you to protect you." 

She nodded. Then twisted to regard me again. "Are you going to let Tuvok in on this?" 

"Don't know if I trust him yet, Kathryn. Haven't really had a chance to speak to him at any length. Seems to be an honorable man, but I'll need to speak with him, feel him out, and spar with him a bit more before I can trust him." 

"You have another problem." 

"Oh?" 

"The other wives. They'll expect you to call on the eventually. Crycus usually visits them during their baths at least once a week." 

"How many have seen him without the wrap on?" 

"Me and the first wife. She's easy enough to avoid; she's mourning Chakotay." 

"Ah. I trust she was unfaithful?" 

"You could say that. They were promised to each other when he married her." 

"Really?" I said. "Pity that. Let me guess; he offered the family a better price?" She nodded. 

"What's her name?" 

"Annika. She has long blonde hair, blue eyes..." 

"The curvy one I saw in the baths yesterday when I dropped you off?" 

"Yes." 

I nodded, absorbing the information. "I'll think of something to deal with them." 

Kathryn laughed. "I'm sure you could." 

I smirked. "Wasn't thinking that. These clothes are enough to hide body type differences, but I'm sure that being laid bare would give the game away. Worst case scenario, I could always send her away." 

Her hands slid up my chest, and appreciative smile twitched at her lips. "You're right. You're more defined than he was. Hard in all the right areas." Seeking fingers dipped lower and a moan escaped my lips. With new resolve, I grasped her hand, brought it to my lips, and kissed her knuckles. "Minx," I whispered. 

"I've already seen your 'body type.' Plan on sending me away?" She purred, hands exploring my chest again through the thin fabric of my shirt. Her eyes burned with unconcealed lust. By the gods the woman was a siren. "I'm sure fighting skills aren't the only thing you picked up in your travels." 

"We shouldn't do this, pet. Will just be a distraction. A pleasant one, but, none the less...having emotions for one another would just make everything more complicated." 

She pulled back at my comment. A dangerous, lustful expression painted across her features. I knew that she had only given up for the time being, and part of me reveled in that fact. Her growling stomach became more insistent. Sighing, she slipped out of my arms. "Guess we'd better get downstairs to breakfast." 

Without a word, I pushed the heavy dresser aside, slipped the saber into my belt, opened the door, and offered her my arm. 

TBC... 


	9. Part IX

  
  
Blood Moon  
Sydney Alexis IX 

"Freeze." My voice was as harsh and unforgiving as the sound of my master when he was training me, but Kathryn had grown used to this side of me by now. She had been practicing with both Tuvok and myself for months. Truth be told, she was a more competent fighter than a number of my generals, but I never told her that. Cockiness would only lead to injury. 

I walked toward the pair of them, frozen in their spot like time itself had stopped. They knew better than to move. 

"What do you see?" I questioned Kathryn. She raised an eyebrow at me. "Looks like the old man's in a bad spot," she said, leering at Tuvok. His back was pressed against a large tree and Kathryn was poised in front of him. The top of her sword's blade dug deeply into his flesh. I had asked him to do this; she needed to learn first hand. 

"True," I said, circling them. "But look beyond the obvious. Think as if you were Tuvok. What would _you_ do in his situation?" 

Her eyes dropped, releasing her grip on the hilt of her sword. I wouldn't call her on it this time. She stepped back and noticed his hand resting on his belt and not at his side like she had expected. Eyes grew wide as she figured out what he was after-- a concealed dagger. 

"The angle of your sword was such that you would have to drive the blade down to cut through his neck. He, on the other hand, had more than enough to draw and..." 

"And take me with him," she finished. 

I stepped closer to her, drawn by the voracious blood lust in her eyes. 

"And what was the first thing that I taught you, Kathryn?" 

Tilting her head to the side and regarding me with her most coy smile, she spoke evenly. "Never raise a sword unless I intend to kill?" 

I smiled at her. Only she openly questioned me. Openly taunted me. "After that." 

"Don't assume that I have won until the opponent has drawn his last breath." 

"Good," I said, stepping back from her. "Of course, in the case of Mr. Tuvok, there will be no killing." 

She laughed. "No. Something tells me he'll go down with a fight." 

I made my signal, and they returned their swords to their sheaths. It was time to test her hand to hand training. Watching them circle each other like predator and prey, I made mental notes of points to correct and new techniques to teach. She really was magnificent when she was dancing like this-- the hunger for excitement that rolled off of her in waves, her eyes always locked on her prey, hair slightly disarrayed, clothes rumpled, and a thin sheen of perspiration covering her skin. 

Endless moments of stalking ended as Kathryn lowered her left shoulder slightly, faking a punch with her right and sending her left out in a roundhouse. Tuvok caught it with his fist, tightening his grip on it briefly before releasing her hand. A flurry of activity followed with both landing and blocking punches, but it wasTuvok that drew the first blood. Kathryn stepped back, slightly dazed. Her hand flew to her nose. The red fluid covered her fingers and drove her over the edge. Ye gods how I loved to watch her fight like that. All the fury and anger in her system focused into her movements. She used her body size to her advantage, ducking out of his attacks and landing blows simultaneously. It was her emotions that led to undoing every time though. No matter how many times I told her that there had to be a balance between them and well-practiced maneuvers for any attempt to be successful, she would fail. Muscle memory worked for her most of the time, but, in the end, she would forget one of the basics. 

In one swift motion, Tuvok caught her fist before it connected with his jaw. Using her momentum, he flipped her over his shoulder easily, dropped beside her, removed a hidden stiletto from his sleeve, and held it to her neck. 

Sighing, I stepped forward from my position. "Kathryn, you are still dropping your right shoulder before you make punches, your balance was off on that last one which just made it that much easier for him to flip you, and you were apparently too busy fighting to take stock of the weapons Tuvok has. Nearly every blade on him is detectable by the bunching in his clothing." 

I motioned for the Moor to stand with my hand. Kathryn pushed herself up onto her knees, preparing to stand. I shook my head, and a flash of anger and embarrassment crossed her features. The message clearly received; she had to gain my permission to stand. Not only did it support my claims to still be the brutal, unforgiving warlord Crycus was, but it reinforced her lessons. The look on her face though was enough to let me know I'd be hearing an earful that evening. 

I stood silently in front of Tuvok, taking in his appearance for a long moment before circling him. After hours of sparring with Kathryn, he was still no where near as fatigued as she was. Barely sweating and definitely not panting for breath as she was. Every muscle in his body was waiting for an attack that would not come from me, but, to the casual observer, he looked at ease. Despite the heat of the day, he remained in a long sleeve shirt, jacket, and turban. 

Without looking at her, I spoke. "Where are the standard placements for hidden weapons?" 

"Sleeves, belt, boots, saddle bags." 

I nodded, stepping forward, starting at the sleeves and removing his weapons: first the stiletto in his hand, then the one up his other sleeve, one tucked in his belt near his favored hand, another hidden beneath a pleat in the back, one in each boot, and, finally, one hidden within the wraps on his turban. The latter surprised both of them when I drew it and added it to the growing stack on the forest floor. 

"No one has ever found that weapon before," he said, speaking for the first time that afternoon, a look of admiration on his face. I smirked at him. Over the past few weeks, I had learned quite a bit about Tuvok. He was loyal, quiet, and he was an incredible fighter. We were, in fact, fairly well matched. I would not, however, venture to tell him of my true identity. Though I knew his high beliefs in honor went, I had doubts of him. 

I clasped my hand on his shoulder and offered him a smile. "Good fight. We'll meet you here tomorrow, old man. Tomorrow we'll start her on crossbows and throwing daggers." He nodded. "As for the troops, see that they start training with quarter staffs by the end of the week. I still intend to arrive there before the Winter Solstice." 

"Yes, my Lord," Tuvok said, bending to gather his weapons before leaving. Once out of earshot, I offered a hand to Kathryn. "Sorry, about that, pet. Just don't fancy you getting yourself killed over a stupid mistake." 

Ignoring my hand, she rose from the ground. "Sometimes you are like him so much that the very sound of your voice pains me," she said, quietly, limping toward the castle gate then stopping as she remembered her place. Crycus would never have simply dismissed her outside the castle walls, especially in the state she was in. Bloodied and bruised on my arm, she had received a beating. Without me present, she had run away or was cast off and fair game. No one save Tuvok knew of her extra studies and that was the way I intended on keeping it. 

Pushing the dull ache in my stomach that was stirred at her words, I squared my shoulders and walked up to her. "Come on, pet," I said, offering her my arm. She took it, standing stiffly against my side as we walked in. Her head was down, eyes filled with irritation and laced with pain. Coming off of her adrenaline rush and feeling the effects of the well and throughout thrashing Tuvok had dealt her that afternoon would only serve to full her ire. 

I led her through the gates, through the palace, and straight to Crycus' bedroom. I locked the door soundly behind us. She slipped from my side almost instantaneously, slumping down onto the bed. I sat beside her and, despite speaking in hushed tones. She jumped at the sound of my voice. 

"I'm sorry," I said, softly. "If you don't want to continue your training..." 

"No," she said, quickly. "It's just hard sometimes..." 

I raised my eyebrow then verbally nudged her to continue. "How's that?" 

"When we're out there," she said, pointing toward the doors, "You're Crycus. This cold, cruel man that revealed in torturing others and the base parts of life. And then, when we're out there fighting, you're Proteus. Always acting on instinct. Always ahead of your opponent. When we're in here...you're Thomas. You're your old self...or at least how I pictured you in the old days, sad haunted look in your eyes. You read over your wife's letters, mourning her, thinking about getting revenge against the last player in this whole conspiracy. It's just hard to keep all your personalities straight." 

Understanding dawned on me. I had been living the life of so many other people that I tended to not notice when or how easily I melted into a new character. She raised an unsteady hand to my cheek. 

"I could deal with Crycus because I knew what he expected, and I could probably deal with Proteus. But Thomas is foreign territory." 

"How so, pet?" 

Shrugging her shoulders, she pulled away. "It's not important." I touched her arm, and her eyes darted to mine. There, written just as clearly across her features was an expression I hoped not to ever see again, but, as quickly as it was there, it disappeared. Standing, she moved toward the door. 

"I'm going to the wives' bath to clean up and then to my room for the evening," she said softly, chancing a look at me over her shoulder. 

I nodded mutely in understanding. "I'll see you at dinner then, Kathryn?" 

"Yeah," she said, slipping from my room without another word. I fell back onto the bed, running a hand through my hair. I spent the next few hours cursing the Fates and their sick sense of humor. Kathryn was in love with Thomas. 

§*Ø*§

Nearly as soon as Kathryn left, a loud wrapping began on my chamber door. Sighing, I called out for whomever it was to enter. I heard, rather than saw the heavy door open. The intruder made two hesitant steps into the room. 

"What news bring you?" I said, finally growing impatient and turned my sight upon the door. 

"A woman...she dropped this scroll off for you, Milord. Told me to bring it to you straight away." 

I turned my gaze from the boy, returning it to the juncture where the ceiling and the wall met once again. He stepped forward, edging toward my open hand to give me the proffered scroll. I took it from him, expecting it to be yet another bill or requisition letter. It was the seal, however, that gave me pause-- a series of interlocking knots. Only a handful of people carried the symbol of the Order. 

"A woman you say...what did she look like?" 

"Dinn't get a good look at her. Old-like. Brown cloak. Sway backed. But the funny thing is her walking stick..." 

"Was it taller than she? Carved out of a wood that seemed as black as the night?" 

"Yeah. Had this red bobble at the top that kinda reminded me of the bishop's ring." 

My heart sped up as I broke the seal on the scroll. I unrolled it slowly to find three symbols neatly scribbled in the center along with two words in my people's ancient tongue. Two of the symbols were runic-- war and love. The last was two intersecting, curved lines that had come to represent the one god's temples. The message read: "Alone. Midnight." 

I had to stop myself from laughing aloud. Only Du would arrange such a risky meet. Her note was in classic form as well-- short, sweet, and delivered with an air of mystery. I would, without a doubt, have to be careful. 

"Was this all that she gave you?" 

"Nothing more, Milord." 

I nodded and motioned that he was free to leave. Not for the first time, I wished night would come faster. 

§*Ø*§

That evening, I found it nearly impossible to slip out of the palace unseen. Twice as many guards had been assigned to protecting it at night, and the efforts of Tuvok's training had become quite obvious. Laughing at my own self-imposed headache, I elected to simply walk out the front gate dressed as a merchant rather than a pauper. I very nearly made it to the temple without a snag. Nearly. Not entirely. One of the wives was there in the last pew, head bowed in prayer. Beads clicking loudly against each other. To worsen matters, the 'church' as it was now called, was actually a decommissioned temple for Athena. Architecturally, it was made wide and open for worship. This left me with a bit of a dilemma-- there were no shadows to blend into or places to hide in that tiny, entry way the bishop's carpenters had made for foyer. Of course, the best way to hide something is often in plain sight...provided the gods are in your favor. 

My eyes darted from 'my wife' to the small fount of holy water and then behind me to the table of memorial candles. A handful remained lit hours after service had concluded. My gaze was drawn to the changing color of the ruby glass as the flame flickered in the breeze. I recalled my youth as a page and the teachings of the one god I was forced to endure. I had believed them as easily as I had believed in the many gods. No question of their existence because a man I perceived to be greater than me told me it was such. I'd lit one of those candles every time I was about to ride out. A single candle to remember and pay tribute to the men that would fall at the end of my sword. It was a guilt that I had learned to bury with time. 

My trance was cut short by the sound of rustling fabrics. With the woman's exit, I was finally able to slip into the temple without detection. My eyes darted from the pews, to the choir loft, and finally, up to the handful of shadows given by the massive columns near the pulpit. 

"You're late," A disembodied voice admonished from behind the reliquary. A female figure came from the shadows she was melted into. The soft glow of the torches revealing her features. How I had spent hours mapping them. 

"It's a bit more difficult to slip out these days now that the guards aren't complete idiots. What brings you to my fair city, love?" 

"I was in the neighborhood-- the land of the pharaohs--visiting a few friends of mine, learning all about their gods..." 

"You heard about their burial chambers and you and your little band were emptying them out." 

"Ta. Good guess. Suppose you did spend a bit too much time in my care not to know me that well." She paused, her head tilting slightly. "As I was saying, I was in the neighborhood, and started hearing rumors that Crycus had killed Proteus. Thought that I would come here and see for myself." 

"Sending little notes lacks style, pet. Not to mention not very stealthy. You're up to something. I want to know what it is." 

"Pick up the power of mind reading while you were traveling across Chin, did you?" 

"No. I just know you well, Du." 

"Always hated that nickname. And after I put you on the right path you think that you could show me a little respect. My name is Duessa. Not Du or pet or love or any of the other little nicknames you use on woman to make them fall for you." 

"Thought that was the looks, love. Now quit stalling. Why did you come?" 

"We made a pact, you and I. I agreed to help you if you helped me. I keep my promises." 

"Big difference between me teaching you how to read and you training me how to kill." 

"I think the exact words were 'I'll help you. Show you how to kill them all.'" 

"And you think that was a promise to take out Crycus if I really was dead? And your impeccable honor is what's making you do it? Don't think so. You knew that I wouldn't give a damn what happened to this little palace once I'd left to take care of Solomon so you and your little band have your eyes set on taking it over." 

She pouted lightly. "Caught me." A smile crept across her lips. "Fair catch though." Her hand came out to cup my face under my chin. "We'd cut you in, of course." 

Duessa reminded me of Kes. Or, visa versa. She liked to do whatever or whomever she wanted when she wanted. Right spoiled woman. That was why I loved her. She made the greatest mentor a killer could ask for. Course, it helped that I could read her well. 

"What else aren't you telling me, love?" 

Her face fell as if I'd revealed some secret of hers. "Not sure what you're..." She started. I grabbed her neck roughly with my hand. A few more pounds of pressure and I would crush her voice box. We both knew it. Just made her smile brightly at me. Du always was into playing dangerous games. Probably why she was so damned good at what she did. 

"How I've missed you, Thomas. You were always so much more...daring than my other boys." 

"What do you know?" 

Her large, brown, expressive eyes took on an empty, glazed sheen as she read me. "War and love. Love and war. Exact opposites that always shined so brightly inside you. The Lovers has crossed Death. Now they must pay. Eleven struggles you think you have seen but only ten cups have been filled. Tread carefully, Thomas, or all your work will be for naught," she said, laughing. Her voice had taken on a wispy, waiflike sound. Her facial features relaxed more and an innocence crept into her eyes. 

"You saw all that in there?" I asked, laying my palm on her left temple. She turned into my touch before leaving my side to turn in wild circles to a tune she heard in her mind. 

In her childhood, Duessa had been driven half mad by her stepfather, learning a great deal about methods of revenge and cruelty from him before she killed him and set out on this life. Her stepfather was an early follower of the one god that said her 'seeing' was an affront to his god-- only He was meant to foresee events. 

Her mind was left fractured. So damaged by him that, at times, she would slip into that innocent child she had been before her mother married the ogre. It happened every time she 'saw'. Spinning in the center of a temple made church, she'd mumble about the stars, finally finding a moment's peace. 

Had Duessa been born a ten winters before, she'd have been revered as a prophet for her visions. Now, thought. Now she was marked as evil. Seeing her like that always made me mourn for her. Endure her more to me. She was vulnerable then. Not the hard woman that stole and killed without remorse, but the little girl that had been destroyed. 

Her mad spinning and humming stopped as she turned toward me. Her slender arm extended towards me. "Give us a dance, Thomas? One last time. It's been so long since you've held me." I could never deny her anything when she was like this. I took her hand and let her guide me to the area between the pulpit and the pews. 

"The Goddess... she worries for you, my Thomas. You're covered in Eros' poison. It's seeping into your veins, making you blind." 

"Du...I don't know what you're talking about." 

"Oh Thomas. Already lying for her. And to me? I can see through you. Be leery of her. She doesn't love you like the others." She pulled back from me beginning to spin and hum her tune once again. "The mirror is shattered. It can never be fixed. _She_ can never be fixed." Du murmured against my chest. 

She paused, her voice wavering at the end. "I've been seeing again, Thomas. I mustn't tell Papa. It's so hard not to though. The voices are so loud. Getting so I can't hear anythin' else." 

I threaded my hands through her hair, moving slowly with her. " 'S'alight, pet. We're in Athena's temple. Remember? Just ask her to help you block it out while you're in here. She'll listen. She always loved you." 

"No. I was sent to put you on your path. Guide you from Hermes to her. Arms wide open to greet you again. She missed her champion even after his Fall. You learned from it and moved on." 

Her speech gained coherency. I lifted her chin so that our eyes met and saw that the cloudiness they took on when a vision had lifted. 

Duessa pulled herself from my arms then, offering a weak smile. Three steps saw her, hand reaching out to touch the cold, marble column. "You're like this temple, Thomas. The exterior can be changed to give it another appearance, but it will always be Athena's. She will rule over it and the land and not be forgotten. No matter how much the scenery changes. No matter how many times the one god's carpenter covers her murals or re-carves her statues. She will always be there." 

She paused, turning to look at me again. Eyes belying no emotion as she raised a candle's glass holder and let it fall from her hands, shattering on the ground. "The core must be stable. Impenetrable. Unbroken. Splintered wood, fractured glass can never be rebuilt. I wonder which will sting more? The sculptor's tools or the shards of glass." 

Duessa spoke the last bit, staring down at the mess she had made. The candle light danced across the glass bits like thousands of tiny prisms. Unnatural rainbows were cast across her ivory skin. 

"She was with you that night...when you built the pyre and ever after. You have Her favor, Thomas. You always will." She started, then finally turned her gaze to meet his. "Remember where you came from, or you will become like the mirror." 

She turned quickly, her aged cloak billowing behind her as she made a hasty exit, slowed only by the loot she had taken from the church. I smiled at that. Even half-gone her hands managed to grab hold of sacred objects of gods she didn't honor or recognize. The jeweler in her group would melt the gold down, recut the gems, and they would sell them to the highest bidder. For her level of craft, they put up with her outbursts. Only I knew how to tame them though. 

I folded my arms around myself before heading out into the bitterly cold night air. It wasn't until I arrived back in my chambers that I noticed Du had slipped a charmed rune into my pocket. It was made of rose quartz-- a substance known for its healing abilities. It was in finding that one, small object that all of her ramblings came into focus. The game had changed immeasurably in just a few short hours. 

A/N: No, your eyes aren't playing tricks on you. Duessa is meant to remind you of Drusilla. I have plans to tie this story into one about her and Spike. 


	10. Part X

  
  
Blood Moon  
Sydney Alexis X 

The brutal wind clawed its way in from the ocean and brought with it the sand it had collected from the beach. The abrasive material scorched and battered my skin. 

In the distance, the sun was dipping into the sea. The last of the fishing ships were docking and the taverns were beginning to fill. Within an hour, the entire area surrounding me would be pitched in the silver-grey moonlight. At night, the scavengers--men and beasts alike-- would venture out, picking clean the bones of the weak. 

The temperature continued to drop. The air took on a bitter chill once the sand in the area cooled. Within a short while, death would set in on any victim caught unprepared. Despite all that, I kept my vigil. 

The orange flames before me grew taller with each passing moment. Gleaming tendrils bent towards the north, they stood against the black void seemingly brighter than any other object near it. 

This had become part of routine-- a ritual of remembrance. Every tenth cycle of the moon, I would wait until Artemis completely disappeared from the night sky, light a large bonfire, and tend it until dawn. It was how I honored my family and gave thanks to the Furies and Athena for allowing me to avenge them. I was grateful my path had crossed with Duessa when it did; she was the one that reminded me of my duties. 

"If you were trying to be discreet by sneaking out of the palace, I hardly think that you succeeded." I smiled, surprised that it had taken him this long to find me. 

"Tuvok. Come. Sit." 

"This is your ritual. Not mine, Crycus. I do, however, find it odd that a man as self centered as yourself would risk death for charges of heresy when he, himself, has lost no one in his life of any great importance." 

"I merely lit a bonfire, Moor." I didn't chastise him for speaking against me; I realized that he was working up to something. 

"A ritual of mourning," he corrected. "This time last year Crycus held a party to celebrate his victories and show off his wives. That entire night he never once shown any interest in mourning. Then again, you are not him." 

"What makes you think that I am not Crycus?" A smile tugged at my lips. Kathryn had never mentioned that he was so direct. 

"Would you believe me to be an affective general in your army if I was unable to detect your deceit?" 

"Touché. The question does remain of what you intend to do with this 'truth' you may or may not have uncovered." I volleyed, not turning for my watch to look at him. I didn't need to; I felt him tense behind me. In the whisper of movement, he was sitting at my side. 

"I have no proof to offer, and I have no intention of collecting it, " he said, pausing to motion to the fire. "You are either brave or suicidal for honoring them so openly. I imagine it hasn't been long since you have lost them?" 

"Five winters," I said, noting how quickly he had changed the subject. "You have avoided my question. What do you intend on doing with the knowledge you now possess?" 

"Knowledge is a powerful thing. It can afford the bearer great insight or haunt him to the point of madness. With the little that I know, I can only guess that you are preparing the men for a war. One the size of which this world has never seen. What I have to wonder is who you are targeting? It would have to be a great power for you to push my men so hard. 

"The fact that you are using the old ways to pay tribute would suggest that you are not going to follow the King blindly into his crusades. That lowers the number of armies to fight substantially. Those areas to the west and east of the King lost their leaders not more than a few months ago and are rebuilding. Not much of a challenge and yet you do not strike. That suggests that broadening the land is not on your agenda. Men of your position are only out for a handful of things-- land, property, or revenge. 

"You seem uninterested in filling your coffers. If that was, indeed, your goal, you would have taken over easier lands as well," he said, turning to look at me for the first time that night. "My guess would be that this is about revenge, and that the army that protects the man or group of men is quite capable."

I raised my eyebrow and turned to regard the Moor. Kathryn had told me months before when this started that Tuvok was a great leader, but she never mentioned his intelligence or cunning. 

"So tell me then, old man, who you believe my target is? Can't leave a tale without the remainder of the questions answered."

"My guess would be your target is either the king and his favorite themselves and not their armies. Why fight and kill thousands when you could take out their leader? It's a brilliant method. One Solomon has used before. One Proteus adopted," he said, pausing to look at me...to gain my reaction. 

"Curious how a warrior as well trained as he could be killed so easily by a woman. Of course, women have always been your downfall." 

I chuckled at the last bit. He made it sound as it I were the moth and she the flame. Time to gauge how much more he knew. "Interesting theory, but why would Proteus go through all the trouble of assuming an identity and lying in wait? He is an assassin. He kills for the highest bidder."

"In the early days of his reign perhaps. But most of his larger targets were people in Solomon's inner circle. Men that had his blessing because they dirtied their hands with his orders. They deserved to die."

I noted the venom in his voice, the slump of his shoulders, the cloudy look his eyes had taken on and I knew, without a doubt, that his life had somehow been touched as well. 

"Killing is not always the answer," I said softly, looking down at my hands. The same hands that had killed the aforementioned generals, their families, and any loyal servant that got in my way. My blood rage was even more voracious then and was still hard to ebb once it had started. 

"Sometimes it is the only message that a leader can understand." I nodded in agreement. 

"Who did you loose?" 

"My parents. My wife, children, and I were in Thrice visiting her family for the month," he paused, looking at me with glassy eyes. "I sent them back to stay with her parents while I tried to figure out who had killed them and why. By the time I found out, you had already killed him." 

"How did you end up here?" 

"No matter how many generals you managed to kill, Solomon would have a replacement to send. In fact, the more you killed, the more powerful his empire became. His land has expanded exponentially. Crycus...he was never the type to take orders. He was planning on sending Kes to kill the king. That was why she was summoned to the palace." 

"And you were to go with her. Make sure that she did the job and bring back proof?" 

"And help her clean up any...messes that she may encounter." 

"You mean kill the witnesses." 

"The king has no heir yet. Crycus believed it was because the elder woman put a curse on the Queen's womb. Under the old laws, anyone that manages to kill the king would claim his crown and his lands." 

"So the tribes were willing to meet to form an army, expand the lands, and then kill one another in an attempt to gain the throne." 

"You forget one thing, Proteus, you have been taking out the largest of his threats. All the remains are you and his favorite." 

"And his favorite would never turn on him," I said, feeling a terrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was the type of queasiness that helped support intuition. Sixth sense was a gift from the Gods to guide us on the right path...avoid disaster. The question was which path. 

Tuvok gave a long pause while we both stared at the fire. He finally broke the silence. "Solomon has spies hidden throughout the palace. You need to be more cautious. If I was able to learn the truth..." 

I raised an eyebrow at him, but did not speak. 

"The first wife is suspicious. She had been trying to cause trouble since you killed Chakotay. The other wives miss your...company." 

I nodded, and returned my gaze to the fire. "I've only trusted three people since this journey has started. " To my surprise, Tuvok offered the hint of a smile, seemingly more than willing to follow my lead into an unrelated topic. 

"I take it I'm not one of them." 

Perceptive this one, and quite capable of connecting the dots. "Not necessarily." 

He nodded, rising from his seat beside me. In a swift motion, the dagger from his belt was drawn. Confident steps walked toward the ritual fire. Sharp metal sliced through the palm of his hand. 

"Hear me Goddess, Furies, All, I pledge my sword and heed this call. Victory, vengeance's final act." 

Tuvok balled up his fist over the blade, letting his blood fall into the flames. Allowing the shock to fill me, I rose and repeated his words. With his blade, I inflicted the same cut. My blood added to the fire, we stood back and watched it jump. Flames shooting to impossible heights, it burned a radiant white until I clasped my hand to his. 

"With these words, I seal this pact." Our voices chanted in unison. 

Pride and appreciation shone in my eyes as I looked at Tuvok. He'd sworn a blood oath in the eyes of the Gods to stand by my side til death or completion took form. My trust in him was still not absolute, but he had gained my favor as a warrior and a man of honor. 

§ Ø § 

Following Tuvok's advice, I decided to make a personal appearance at the bath house that morning to let Kathryn know that I was, in fact, still alive as well as allow her to establish her position as my favored wife again. The heated room was brimming with energy as I entered. No doubt servants sent word to them of my arrival. The moment that I stepped into the room they all sank to the ground foreheads touching the floor. The action reminded me of what the king expected of all of his servants--be they cooks, concubines, or lords. 

Each of the five wives were in a row, hastily dressed in embroidered robes of varying colors. All but Kathryn tensed as I approached them. I kneeled before her. Touching the underneath of her face, I bid her rise to her knees. The tension drained from her face when her eyes locked on to mine. As she offered me a coquettish smile, I couldn't help but wonder what had spurred her to become so panicked. 

"Didn't mean to worry you, love. Had to take care of a few things before the sun rose," I whispered softly to her. 

"I was just worried when you didn't return home last night. Their was mention of a strange woman delivering a scroll?" 

"Just some old business that had to be dealt with," I said, taking her hand in mine and squeezing it briefly before I stood. The first wife took that as her cue to rise. 

"It has been many weeks since you have visited us at all. Do you intend on taking us with you to see the king?" 

"Having an entourage is a bit tacky, Annika. Besides, I don't need bluster the king's feathers any more by showing up with a harem. Since Kathryn and I's marriage is the only one sanctified by His Royal Highness' church, she'll be going with me." 

"Need I remind you, _husband_ that I am your first wife, and with that comes certain privileges? I have a say over the other wives and I say that she stays." 

"And need I remind you that you are my property? To do with as I please. If I'm not taking the furniture, why should I take a vacuous shrew?" 

Her jaw jutted out slightly, fists balling, chest heaving with fury she dare not release. 

"How do you know that she won't simply slip away while you are there? She's been trying to find ways back to her homeland for years. She's been impious, crass, calculating. Not more than a few months ago you had to have her dragged to your bed and now she seems content to stay there? It seems utterly convenient, Crycus." 

"Impetuous woman. Are you quite finished?" I asked, fully prepared to strike out at her when her rampage was complete. 

"And why did you sneak out last night? Was it to visit the whore house again? Has it been so long for you that you feel you have to pay for enjoyment?" She asked, her hands slipping down the front of my tunic. "Have you forgotten that you have other wives?" 

I clasped my hands around her wrists roughly and pushed her away. She stumbled backwards, falling against one of the many marble columns that surrounded the large pool. "Other wives that lay with other men. Funny. It didn't seem to take you long to mourn for your beloved Chakotay before you decided to get back into my bed. Are your sheets so cool that you would willfully choose to lay with his murderer?" 

From behind a curtain of blonde hair, she looked at me then, blue eyes filled with rage. "How long has it been, Crycus? Your sheets show no evidence of your encounters with her." 

I felt Kathryn stiffen behind me and the slow, steady burn of blood rage take over. I knew she was doing this to rile me. To test my bounds. The real Crycus wouldn't kill her. He'd come up with some awesome torture to get even. A small hand touched my shoulder, without turning I knew who it was. 

"Beds and sheets are not a required part of the equation, Annika," Kathryn's strong, even voice said from behind me. 

I laughed that raucous laugh people do at a well told, bawdy joke then turned my sights upon the shrinking woman upon which so much venom had been strewed. 

"You've forgotten another law of the Ancients, _wife_. A man can choose what to do with his property-- beat her, sell her to the highest bidder," I said, stalking towards her, my hand on the hilt of the dagger in my belt. "I could hang you in the dungeon and let you starve to death, or tie you down in the desert and let the carrion birds have you." I grabbed a chunk of her hair and bent her head back at a painful angle. She didn't flinch. "Remember this moment well, Annika, when your muscles are sore and your face is filthy." Confusion marred her features as I continued. "This is the moment you lost my favor." 

I turned from her and addressed one of Tuvok's guards, telling him his orders before grabbing the whip from his belt. Turning quickly on my heel, I ambled toward her again, drawing the familiar braided leather through my hands. Duessa had taught me how to use a whip to disable or kill an enemy in seconds. She'd also taught me how to use it in another game of hers. One that I never enjoyed. Quelling those thoughts, I reached out, cupping her cheek with the palm of my hand. 

"I don't want to do this, love, but you're making me. Speaking out against me... If I didn't care for you so much," I started, moving in closer so only she would hear me, "I'd snap your neck." Her body went still as I pulled back, motioning for the guards closest to me to hold her down on the marble floor. They pinned her down just as they had been trained-- palms up, one knee on their forearm and the other on their shoulder blade.

I loosened the loops I held in my hand so that all remained was the woven leather handle. My arm extended behind me, my stance wide and at an angle to her body before I brought the strap forward to kiss her flesh. The first two licks tore open her robe's back. The third, fourth, and final lick applied tore wide lashes into her back. She didn't cry out for any of them. Just took it like it was no more than a mosquito biting her.

Rather than seeing, I felt a guard approach behind me. In his hands, he held the object I had sent him for-- a branding iron.

"You've forgotten who you belong to. Maybe you just need the reminder."

Without so much as a word, the two guards holding her moved back as I approached with the red hot metal. Her head turned towards me then, eyes wild with disbelief.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I'm sorry."

"I really don't want to do this. You know I don't, but you're making me," I said, kneeling beside her. 

"The skin on the wrist is the thinnest point on the body, and it just happens to be the most prominent location, besides the face of course. And your beauty is what makes you worth as much as you are." With that, I touched the curved C to her skin. A shrill scream filled the hollow room that reminded me of the sound rabbits make when they're dying. Black tendrils wisped through the air just above her skin. I pulled the metal up, and she shrank away, cradling her burned flesh to her body.

Dropping the branding iron into one of the coal containers that heated the room, I approached her, reaching for her. She backed away from me, straight into the column behind her. She let out a startled gasp as her wounded, bare back made contact with the icy cold surface of the marble.

I kneeled in front of her. The haunted look in her eyes...Gods above they reminded me of the look B'El had locked on her face when I found her. My chest constricted. What had I done? She had slept with a man that I barely knew. She'd only wanted to be with her love and Crycus had snatched her away. 

"The water," I said, softly. Despite that, she flinched at the sound as if it were too loud to bare. I swallowed hard and ventured forth. "The water will stop the burn from spreading." 

Darting her gaze from me to the pool then back, Annika made a wild dash for the bathing pool beyond me. The moment her arm hit the water, the tears that were threatening to spill started.

"Go to the Apothecary. Get something for her burns...and her back." 

Guards and wives alike stood perfectly still. I turned toward them, agitation quickly turning to anger. "She's worth nothing to me if she dies of infection. Go!" I bellowed. Each group scrambling towards a location. All but Kathryn who left slowly, casting hate-filled eyes upon me as I stroked Annika's hair, trying to soothe her.

The third wife, Constance, appeared a few candle marks later, bearing a small leather pouch and a bottle. Smiling weakly at me, she slipped between the first and I, gently taking her wrist in her hands. I watched her brow nit in sympathy and concentration as she applied the aloe based pulpus to her skin before wrapping her wrist with clean bandages.

Without a word, I slipped from the room and made my way into my private bath. There, I emptied the contents of my stomach into the chamber pot until I had nothing left.


	11. XI

Blood Moon 

Sydney Alexis 

XI 

I didn't need the scroll that evening to know that she was near; I could feel her presence. Breezing through the small patch of trees that had become my safe haven. 

She always had a way of finding me when I was lost. Knowing instinctively when to comfort, when to listen, when to guide. The first time she had found me like this was after I had left Harry at my village. I'd ridden hard since I left camp and kept running. Placing as much distance between my family's pyres and myself as I could, and I thought that the tears would never cease. 

It'd been weeks since I'd spoken to another living soul. I tried to loose myself in the deserts along the Silk Road route. Somewhere between His Majesty's land and Chin. I managed to find an oasis and set up camp there. Living off of desert creatures-- snakes, scorpions, fowl. Anything that was living that could be cooked over a fire was fair game. 

In a state of near madness she came upon me. Slight arms wrapped around me, a flash of red as her cloak covered us both. 

She offered comfort while I cried buckets of salt over a woman I'd grown to love. _'Lanna would have handled this better. She was always the strongest of both.' _It was the first words uttered from my throat. Deep and thick from disuse, they came out broken and hollow between the tears that racked my body. 

"Come, Thomas," she said in a heavy Spanish accent. One that years would fade. And I followed her without question. Unconcerned that she knew my name despite the fact that I did not offer it nor did I ask or know hers. 

She took up a fallen limb from a tree, wrapped a cloth she produced from her pack around the end, lit it, and lead me out into the bitter cold night. Not far from my camp, we came across an ancient tree. Trunk mangled from years of the sand beating across it. Her torch touched the base of the wood and a fire jumped up from it. 

"Close your eyes, Thomas. Picture her...your children." A pause. Long enough for me to comply. "What do you see?" 

First came her eyes. Dark and full of mirth as she danced in the field with my daughter. Just beyond sat her father playing his aged lute and her mother holding Jonathan in her lap. There was such life there. Trees and flowers and running water. The smells and sights of all I had long blocked out from my current feeble existence. 

Their mad twirling stopped, but the music continued. Lanna came to me, hands outstretched. When she reached me, the voice was not her own. 

"Thomas, come back to me." 

The voice was insistent as was the hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes blinking several times before coming to focus on the woman I would come to know as Duessa. 

"'Tisn't good to stay there long." The confusion on my face wouldn't lend her to explain further. I wasn't ready that night to know I'd been granted a glance into Elysian Fields, and, for a mortal to stay there longer than an instant would mean death to them and separation for those that they went there to meet. 

No. Du didn't tell me that until several years later at yet another chance encounter. Instead, she sat beside me and waited. 

"Do you believe what you said earlier? That her existence would have been easier had you died in her place?" 

"Yes, milady, I do." 

A smile tugged at her lips at the formal address as if she'd never been show such courtesy. I'd learn that my assumptions there had been correct. To this day, I've never allowed her that title; it simply did not suit her. I did and still do call her my lover, guide, salvation, and sire. She created Proteus and set me upon a path. Gave me something tangible to work toward--killing the king. I told her as much once, and she merely laughed off the comment saying she'd only lit the fire. It was I that started the journey to see it all through until only ash remained. 

The night, she led me back to my oasis as the last of the embers of their Remembrance Fire died down. Sitting before the small pond in the center of the circle cast moments before, she held out her hand above water's surface, speaking in our ancient tongue, begging the Goddess for sight. The night-blackened water began to churn and ripple before an image appeared. Lanna, burdened down with goods she'd acquired from the township over, returned to our tiny home. She stopped at the front door, finding a bloody handprint upon it. Her load was dropped in the front stoop as she cautiously pushed open our door. The furniture was stroon about the room, over turned and blood spattered. Two dead soldiers lay in a mass on the floor a third lay on the table. 

She took unto her small hands the giant battle axe that had been her fathers as she followed the blood droplets first to little Miral's room. There, in the corner was her tiny little body. Pale and lifeless from lack of blood, eyes locked forward in terror. Lanna sank to the balls of her feet, checking for tell-tale beating of her heart against her neck but found none. Sinking back grief, she rose and then walked with a determined gait until our bedroom. There, in the doorway, lay my lifeless body. Arrows protruding from my thigh and shoulder, several large gashes in my chest, and a pool of blood beneath my body. Her eyes left mine and traveled to our lifeless son on the bed beyond and back to me. The axe was dropped as she took my cold, dead, body into her arms and began to cry. 

The pool shimmered again through a series of flashes: our funeral pyres, her teaching herself how to fight, raising an army, her rise as a known warlord, her assassination attempt of the king, years of torture and pain at his lackey's hand, her eventual death years later, and her decent into Hades. 

The watered stopped churning as suddenly as it began and Duessa sat back from it, eyes heavy with pain. 

"She followed the Fool's path. All that remained inside of her was pain and the need for vengeance." 

She turned to me, eyes wide as if she was reading my fortune. "Your path needn't be that destructive or foolhardy. You just have to learn from her mistake; don't lose yourself within the violence and need for revenge, Thomas." 

That night seemed a thousand marks ago, and yet so little had changed. 

"Your grief seeps through the very stones," her voice stated neutrally. The crimson cloak she always wore puddle at her feet. 

I uttered a non-committal noise. 

She brought a slender finger to her mouth, licking the tip of it as if to check the air. Her head tipped to the side as she considered my posture. 

"You feel rage..." 

My eyes darted to hers, and, at the confirmation she smiled a little knowing smile to herself seemingly content at the knowledge she could still read me so well. Nearing me with careful steps her hand ghosted across my cheek. 

"So much rage," she repeated, this time allowing herself a prolonged touch, hand gliding into my hair as if she could absorb the maelstrom of emotions within me. I closed my eyes, relishing her calming touch. The one that quieted the need for violence and retribution and a litany of other, long standing emotions. 

Her hand slipped away after all but too brief contact and I heard a soft sigh slip unbidden from my lips. Fathomless brown eyes locked onto mine and I knew she read me correctly. 

"The demon takes you and you can't fight him back as easily as you once could. But more than that, you fear. Fear what you are. What you could become." 

She glided towards me, spreading out her cloak on the ground before her. Tiny fingers drew her divination cards from her belt as she began her spread. 

"Your men were questioning you. They believed you had grown weak, but your demon has proven you." 

Her eyes were beginning to cloud as her visions seized her. Each card brought new answers rather than only the vague meanings that could be drawn solely from her cards. 

"Terrific," I muttered, sitting up straighter. I racked my hands through my hair and then let them drop to my sides. Her hands stopped moving across the board, her glance cast upon me. 

"They would have killed you...and succeeded. You are needed where you are," she intoned in a scolding voice. At times, she could carry on a perfectly normal conversation. As the years progressed, however, those times were much fewer. 

"But branding? It would have been faster and less painful in the long run just to beat her." 

She tilted her head to the side. "It was a fast and apt punishment. One that will remind her of what she has done." Her hand instinctively went the expansive scar on her forearm. The spot where her mother tried to burn her visions out of her to appease the local priest. It was living proof of what would become of Annika's brand; it will heal over and turn into an expansive scar with smoother than normal skin. 

I shook my head at the images from the past. "I could have killed her. Nearly well would have if I hadn't seen that look in her eyes." 

"Annika is not at the root of your troubled mind," she said, turning over the forth card in the spread. "Your heart is filled with her. The girl." 

Her eyes rose and met mine. Eyes brimming with tears. Readings always brought her more pain but I knew she called upon the spirits to guide her hand because so few were as gifted as she was. 

"You desire her. To own her. To make her yours. Your love for her will never glow as brightly. Be careful how you tread, Thomas. You found her on her rock. You might have saved her, but she may light her candle against you." 

Another card turned, and she muttered to herself. Two more followed. Her gaze rose from them to me. "They tell me you've met another that is to lead you on your path. They say I am needed elsewhere," she said, cupping my cheek. Her eyes filled with unshed tears. "When did you stop needing me, Thomas? I was your everything once and you took care of me. Now you take care of the girl." 

Just as quickly as it came her emotion left her. The tears that filled her eyes were shed down her cheeks and she ignored them as her face finally grew serious. 

"Mind her, Thomas, or she will fall at the hands of the sea." 

I shook my head. The last time she had left me like this, she had warned me that pain would follow joy. Unending, intolerable pain. I met Yuling within a few months and then lost her nearly as quickly. 

"I don't accept you leaving me." 

"Hermes is waiting. You must choose between the sword and the cup," she said, her eyes shifting with the visions that took her. She began humming an old nursery rhyme incessantly as the full child-like persona came upon her. It was during this time that she was at her most deadly. Most protected state. The Goddess took care of her children. 

When her gaze fell upon me again, it was filled with knowledge, pain, and understanding. "It is our curse, Thomas, to love well and deeply. To be bound to Mates that will never return the depths of that love. Magicks older than our ancestors can remember are to blame. Burned. Imprinted into our souls. It draws us together in this and every lifetime so that the curse can work its will," she turned from me then, collecting her things before setting out. I called out to her to stop her retreating form. She turned and smiled. 

"If I stayed with you, I would only keep your from your path. Go. Find what you are looking for. I will be there when you need me." 

With that, she turned and once again started on her path, meeting up with her ride a few hundred cubits from the end of the patch of trees. I wouldn't see her again for a half dozen years. 

After Duessa left me in the forest with more questions than answers, I decided to take her parting advice to find Kathryn and make things right with her. Word came from one of her attendants that she had returned to the bath to wash up for dinner. Groaning inwardly, I slipped into the room unseen. Hiding behind one of the enormous marble pillars, I was finally able to eavesdrop on my 'wives.'

"I still don't see how you can stand to be near him all the time, Kathryn. One day, that temper of his will be bared against your back," a voice spoke softly. 

I waited for a long moment until my eyes fully adjusted to the darkness of the room. The owner of that voice was the same timid little girl that had pushed me aside earlier to attend to the first wive's wounds. Her adopted name was Constance. Her coloring was closer to the local girls though I suspected other heritage because of the strong Roman nose. Lengthy jet black hair swung unbound, resting at her waist and her eyes were a fathomless black. She reminded me of my Duessa save the fact that Du's hair was curly. Thick, unruly hair and a crimson cloak that was her signature. 

"He's been gentler these days. Not lashing out as cruelly as he used to. Perhaps spending time with Kathryn has tempered the beast somewhat," the second wife suggested. Just as I began to search my memory for her name, the fifth wife weighted in. 

"Tell that to Annika. He nearly burned her through. Treated her like she was no better than the camels the servants use to collect goods from the docks. If you ask me, the only reason we haven't been beaten is simple-- he hasn't been around us enough to have the opportunity." 

I forced myself to suppress a laugh. This fifth wife... Sorteria was it? She was a spitfire. Forthright. I could respect that in a woman. 

"You say that as if it's a bad thing, Ria. As far as I'm concerned, if he wants to spend all his time lying with Kathryn and still let me spend his dinars, than I am all for it," the second wife said. 

Ria was most definitely of Greek heritage. Her skin was the color of toffee, her eyes were a bright brown as well as her hair. Typical to the women in these types of climates, her hair was coarser in look and feel than those of Anglo up bring. 

"While I respect your ability to empty Crycus' treasury, I have to wonder, Pru. First he spends months away from us and then he says he doesn't want a massive entourage to go to the king's homeland. Something just isn't fitting here. A few months ago, he had a seamstress in here creating clothes that would 'make the king rethink his stance on only having one wife.' Now he's saying he's only going to take Kathryn. Just doesn't add up." 

"Things between him and the king are volatile," Kathryn ventured. 

"They always have been. The king hates keeping a pagan in his court..." Pru replied. 

"And Crycus delights in ruffling the old prude's fathers now that he's gone to the way of the one god." Ria interjected. "If you ask me, he's just bitter that his vitality's gone south in his advanced years." 

"Ria!" Constance squeaked, splashing water at younger wife. "Honestly. That mouth of yours is probably the reason Crycus won't bring us." 

"Crycus has always enjoyed my mouth," she said, offering the girl a broad smile. 

"Then why hasn't he been in your bed?" Constance said, turning a lovely shade of red as she did so. 

"Well, according to the servants, Crycus and Kathryn haven't been using their bed to do anything but sleep," Ria said, turning to Kathryn with a raised eyebrow. "What _have_ you been doing all these months?" 

Kathryn opened her mouth to reply when Pru came to her rescue. 

"There is another reason he might be frightened to take us along," Pru softly voiced. "The other army's leaders have all been slain. Rumors have surfaced through the palace that Proteus killed them all. Perhaps Crycus is worried there will be another attempt in his life while we are there." 

"If he falls, we are all unclaimed property," Ria supplied. 

"And if he left us here, we would at least have a chance to escape before someone came for us," Pru and Ria's summation was more than correct. No wonder Crycus had married these girls. They were beautiful _and_ intelligent. 

I stepped out from my perch, finally able to see the second wife. The brief glance of her face was enough to job my memory on her full name. 

"Petruska, Ria, you worry yourselves and the others for no reason. I am a much harder man to kill than all those other dolts." 

They all stood, fully preparing to kneel before me. I lifted my hand to stop them. "No need," I said, slipping onto the wooden bench between Ria and Kathryn. Pru sat just on the other side of her. Egad the girl was a looker, and her name gave her heritage away. Pure Russian through and through. Fair skin, brown eyes, dark hair, and a little spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She smiled shyly at me. I returned the sentiment. 

Ria's hand rested on my shoulder, making me turn my attention to her. Smart girl. "Were we right? Is that why you've chosen not to bring us?" 

I cupped her cheek and kissed her temple, watching as she absorbed the contact. "Ria, my candid little tart. Do you still taste as sweet as I remember?" She closed her eyes for a fraction of a second, and moaned at the question, licking her lips enticingly slow. 

"And you make a wonderfully distracting tease." She replied, her lips twisted in a quirky smile. 

I laughed brusquely. "Always so straightforward, aren't you, love?" She was kneading the flesh on my bicep, making it more and more difficult to think. 

"If it means that much to you, then you can pack up your pretty little wears and come with me on the trip. Just remember that it'll take some months to get there." 

"And there's a finite amount of space to 'store those frilly little frocks you use to entice me into acting upon my manly urges.'" Ria said, taking on a bad version of my accent. She was smiling broadly at me the entire time she spoke. Spirited on by the loud laughter of the other wives, I pounced on the slip of a girl, tickling her mercilessly. 

"I am Lord Crycus. I am one of the most feared men in all this territory, and you...you impudent little girl have the boldness to mock me?" 

She was shrieking in my ear in between laughing so hard she was gasping for breath. "Show mercy, my lord. Show mercy." I stopped once her laugh had lost sound and kissed her forehead. 

"You're forgiven, Ria. But let that be a warning." 

She began laughing anew at my statement, unable to recover herself from the cold stone floor she was laughing upon. 

Returning to the wooden bench near the lip of the bathing pool, Kathryn moldered herself to my side almost instantly, her tiny fingers clutching my arm. Her other hand came to rest possessively on my thigh. I turned my head toward her, placing a kiss into her hairline. "Are we okay, love?" I whispered softly to her. 

"Yeah," came her quiet reply. The hand resting on my leg inched a bit higher as she said this. Constance and Pru left us then, taking the silent cue that I wanted to be given some space. They helped Ria up and all three slipped into the water on the far side of the room. Out of sight but within bellowing distance if I choose to spend time with them. 

I rose and took her hand, guiding her back to our room. There, I closed the door and removed that damned wrap nearly instantaneously. 

Kathryn came forward then, slipping her arm through the crook of my elbow. Whispering into my ear, she asked me what I intended to do now that all of the other wives would consider what Annika had said. I shrugged my shoulders. "Give them more evidence, I suppose." 

She gave me a glee filled smile then led me toward the massive bed's edge. Questioning fingers started to untie the wrap at my waist. My nose nuzzled her hair as I spoke words of concern. "Kathryn, what have I told you about them recognizing I'm not him by changes in body type?" 

"You've spent the last few moons away from them, working with the troops hours each day. It's only natural that you would be more angles and planes and less plateaus and... bulges...." she said the last with a rakish glance as her questing fingers brushed past me. I closed my eyes for the briefest of moments. More bold touches like that and this game would be over quickly. 

"Besides, it's just us here." Within moments the wrap fell, followed by my tunic. Fingertips grazed the newly exposed flesh, trailing over old scars. 

My hands rose to her hair, burying them in the fiery stands. I had to marvel at Crycus' choice in mates. Three dark haired girls and two light. Three with spunk and two that were meek. Maybe it was because their personalities seemed to be directly linked to their sexual prowess. Then again, the quiet ones always were a bit surprising. 

Lips and teeth worked across her jaw line. I felt and heard her speak under my touch. "I hadn't seen these before," she said, tracing over the raised pink flesh on my chest. "How did you get them?" 

She must have felt me stiffen at the question because she pulled out of my embrace just enough to see my face. "Not a pretty story, pet." It was the same five words I had uttered to her months before, but they were the same none the less. 

"Can't be all that bad," she said, pulling me impossibly closer to her. My hands fell to her hips. 

"I tried to cut it out." I said, stilling the hand that was tracing the lines around my heart. Her eyes filled with shock. "Why?" she asked softly. 

"Did something I wasn't proud of. Lot of things actually. Just reached a point and I went out of my head for a little while." 

"Obviously something stopped you." 

"Yeah. Duessa. She and I met up again in India of all places. I was supposed to meet this contact at a temple, and there she was, covered in henna. She was wrapped up in this burgundy and gold sari she'd stolen from one of the local markets. Real vision. Hair pulled back and she was smiling. First time I'd seen her happy. 

"Instead of emptying out the place, she was just sitting there, listening to the monks chant in the distance. I sat down beside her and she looked at me with such peace on her face. Said the place quieted the visions. Made them not take her totally. Don't get me wrong. The girl wasn't changing her faith, but she wasn't going to defile the temple just because of the magick of the place. 

"She and I stayed for a couple of weeks just healing. The monks made us work for our food, let us attend their worship services. Some of the oddest things I've seen. Full of chant and candles and incense. Du would close her eyes and the visions would come, but without the pain or transformation. 

"They're also pretty good at herbal medicine. Put this plant pulpous on my chest that healed up the marks I'd made pretty well." 

"You never told me that she had Sight." Kathryn said, smiling weakly. 

"Didn't I?" 

"You also never mentioned what she looked like...how you met her..." 

"Jealous, pet?" I asked, toying with the end of a strand of hair. It was meant to distract. Meant to guide her away from conversations that could lead to trouble for my Duessa. She's already been hunted twice before for her visions. The one god's church was convinced that Seeing was an affront to their god and that all with visions should be burned or drowned. 

Thankfully, she took the bait. Smiling weakly, she stepped back, hands going to the sash knotted around her waist. "I'm going to dress for dinner and then walk down." she said, letting the robe fall, unashamed. She glided towards me like a lioness stalking her pray. Body moving lithely past the material as if it were nothing more than a nuisance. The same flirtatious smile spread across her features. 

Her hands reached out and touched my shoulders, guiding me back to the bed, I sat on the edge without protest. "Thought that you were about to get dressed. Something change your mind." 

"And I thought that we were going to give them more proof," she volleyed smoothly. The wicked smile that graced her face was pure evidence hat she was fully enjoying the attention she was getting both from me. Her legs straddled my lap as her arms wound around my neck, pulling me closer to her. Her hand crept through my hair, down my jaw line. Her thumb tracing my lips. Locking her eyes with mine, she whispered the next question loud enough for the cavernous room to pick up. 

"Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it." 

Her hands began tracing the scars on my chest as her lips locked onto the lobe of my left ear. Grinding her hips against mine, her throaty voice vibrated against my neck. "You know I would do _anything_ you wanted me to, don't you?" 

Hot breath against already superheated flesh were causing me to respond in ways I knew I shouldn't. Duessa's message was still fresh in my mind. I locked my hands tightly against her hips, trying to stop her assault on my senses. Lips and teeth descended onto my Adam's Apple as she nipped and licked the skin there while questing hands dipped dangerously low. Skillful digits gently brushed down my ribs to my thighs. My hand followed her path, brought her knuckles to my lips where I planted a kiss on them. 

"Don't tell me you want me to stop," she said, turning lust filled eyes onto me. Her bottom lip pouted out, hips beginning their cruel motion as if I wasn't hard enough. 

"Not. Like. This," I managed to stammer out. I wasn't a eunuch. Nor was I chaste in any shape or form. But laying with this woman would bring my undoing. 

I saw and heard the door begin to creak open, and what started out as a kiss to conceal my face turned into a kiss in earnest. The first we'd shared. She traced my lips with her tongue before demanding entrance, and I couldn't control the moan that slipped through my throat. Audience be damned. 

Calloused hands met with mine on her hips, letting the fingers intertwine briefly before dragging them up to cup her breasts. Her head going back until I was faced with a white column of neck. Within a few moments, she returned to me, smiling devilishly. "At least give them a good show," she murmured. 

In the heat of the moment, I had forgotten this dangerous game. It wouldn't take much to pretend. As it was conscious thought was becoming difficult. I sighed, knowing that she could feel the effect she had on me. I brought my lips to her nipple, using her chest to conceal my face. She arched into my touch, and a deep mewl rumbled from her chest. I heard the door creak open more fully and the sound of a throat being cleared. Kathryn angled herself in front of me purposefully blocking the intruder's view of my face. 

"Sorry to interrupt, Lord, but dinner is prepared," Constance's soft voice filled the room. From the tone, I could only guess how red her face was. With that, the door slipped shut. 

"Not like this," I repeated, moving away from Kathryn. Anger written across her face. 

"Said not like this. Didn't say no, pet." My statement was met with a tight smile. She rose from the bed. I dressed and waited for her as she purposefully took her time selecting a gown. She opened the door, expecting me to offer her my elbow. Instead, I threw her over my shoulder and carried down the hall, past a still blushing Constance. Laughing long and loud, I set her down on her seat in the dining room. 

I waited until we were alone much later to tell her the whole truth of why I had stopped her. "I won't have you with me when I look like him. Not in the bed you share with him, and not where you can't scream my name," I said, turning toward her, eyes boaring into hers. "When I have you, you'll be mine wholly. I don't share. Even if he is a dead man." 

§ Ø §


	12. XII

Blood Moon 

Sydney Alexis 

XII 

A/N:Contains some elements of P/7 (Annika) 

The blade weighed more than she was accustomed to as she swung it clumsily toward me. I raised my eyebrow, taunting her slightly. 

Her arc was slow and obvious and I finally took pity on her, knocking the sword from her hand. She growled in frustration, her hand flying to the gash on her forehead. 

"This isn't a fair test, and you know it. That thing weighs twice what my usual sword does." 

"And if you are caught in battle with nothing other than a sword such as this." 

"This," she said, kicking the object toward me, "is not a sword. It is a solid piece of wood fashioned to look like a sword." 

"It is called a waster and I gave it to you so that you don't ruin yet another one of my blades during one of your tirades," I interjected, trying desperately not to laugh at her. 

"I don't give a damn what it's called. If I was caught in battle and it was my own choice of weapon, I would fight with my bare hands." 

"And if your opponent carried a sword his arm's stretch would be twice yours because of his blade." 

"I'd find a way." 

"And you would end up dead," I said, anger filling me. It was at times like this when my ire was raised that I had to fight hard to remain calm. Ye gods the woman was intolerable and emasculating when she wanted to be! 

"Damn it, Kathryn, I won't always be there to take care of you." 

"I can take care of myself, Thomas. I was doing it years before you ever arrived and I will continue to do it after you leave." 

There was a fire in her eyes that was intoxicated and she squared off against me, shoulders squared and tense. She looked more than ready for a fight that would not come from me. Least not on this day. 

I grasped her biceps in my hands, drawing her attention to my eyes. 

"You're right; you can, but you also have to realize that we are going up against the same men that killed Lanna. She was at the same level of training you are at now...maybe a bit more advanced, and they still gutted her like she was nothing more than an animal. I lost one wife that I loved to them. I won't lose another." 

Her stare grew impossibly more icy as she stiffened in my arms. 

"That's where you are mistaken. I am Crycus' wife. Not yours." 

I reeled back from her as though I had been hit. Her words cut me through to the core and I was having trouble shaking them. 

"How could I forget? Lanna gave a damn about people other than herself." 

In a flash, she had raised her hand to slap me. My own snatched her wrist mid-movement and I know she felt the fight within me raise as I held it hard in a crushing grip. Her finger tips grew a deeper purple as her voice took on a venomous edge. 

"How could you even begin to understand me? To know what it's like to have your father pawn you off in exchange for favors. To know that if you walked away you would bring shame to yourself and your family." 

"And my father sending me off to the castle to play page was in no way connected to your experience." 

"You could have walked away," she replied, anger lessening. 

I tilted my head slightly, knowing without speaking that she knew her own admission blew holes through that suggestion. "You spent years learning to read, write, and be a proper lady, and I learned how to kill, to believe that the king's life is more important than my own. The same man that dressed you in fine gowns and sent you to marry a wealthy man took my whole life from me. Now...who do you think got the raw deal on this one, pet?" 

Her eyes softened measurably. "If this is going to launch you into another one of your 'life is tough' speeches I think I'd rather go back to flinging that tree trunk around." 

I smiled broadly at her. "Whatever you say, pet." 

I found her in the corner of the dining room on her hands and knees, scrubbing the area around the fireplace with methodical swipes of her scrub brush. Her face was covered in sweat and ashes and the shift that she wore was stiff even for the burlap material it was fashioned from. 

Stepping cautiously toward her, I crouched down beside her. "Annika, my love? Do you know you will always have my favor?" 

Her spine stiffened. The scrubbing stopped and she knelt down in the standard, submissive pose of all servants. I ran my hand down the ridges of her vertebra. One hard push... 

"You were my first. My great prize. I stole you from your love and bound you to me, but you've never wanted for anything. Have you?" 

"N--no, Crycus," she breathed. 

Her voice was hard and raspy from disuse and the sound of it and my own response to it made me ill. Crycus would play these games, but I never would. Apologies were Thomas' way. Not mine. 

My hand reached out almost of its own command, tracing the streaks of soot on her face. She reminded me of a story my mother would tell me at night. There was no loving prince in this version though... 

For a long, agonizing moment, she stared into my eyes, trying to divine my meaning before she closed them and leaned into my touch. 

"Your skin has hardened from your punishment, but has the place you hold for me in your heart done as well?" 

"You are my husband, Crycus. I am yours for as long as you wish it." 

Eyes ablaze and daring, lips quirked as she recognized the thin threat she placed beneath those words. 

"I wish it forever, love. Come," I said, standing. I took her hand and guided her back to my private bath where her trembling began anew--much to my bruised ego I knew was out of fear. 

"Am I to clean your private bath, my lord?" 

When spoken through the clipped, imprecise tones of a servant, it sounded normal, but, from a lady of station, it sounded ridiculous. Not that I would tell her that. Poor girl was all ready broken enough. 

"No, love. Just can't have you coming down to dinner covered in cinders." 

"I could simply wash up in the..." She started, hedging toward the locked doors. 

"Trying to be rid of my company so soon?" I asked, turning my gaze toward her. 

"Of course not, Crycus," she stated calmly, but her body betrayed her as her eyes darted for an escape route. 

I approached her slowly, raising my hands to the rough rope that belted her stained shift. Daring eyes cautioned a look into my own then dropped to my lips that were upturned in a smile. 

"Do you know what really set me off, love?" 

She nodded her head mutely. 

"It wasn't just what you said about Kathryn..." 

Eyes darted to mine in silent questioning. 

"It was the thought of him touching you." 

The shift fell, leaving her bare before me. My gaze fell over her form, devouring her. Lips moved of their own accord to the shell of her left ear, nipping the delicate cartilage beneath. 

"You. Are. Mine." I whispered against her heated flesh, feeling her shiver against me. I drew back to see her eyes challenging me. 

"And if you choose not to touch anyone but Kathryn?" 

"Then you find pleasure by yourself or with one of the other wives, but you do not take your need outside of my bed." 

I watched her cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Unless of course you wish to _join_ Kathryn and I." The flush spread. 

"What's a'matter, pet? You don't want to see if we can get the one god to strike down us all like Gomorrah?" 

I laughed brusquely, pleased to see her finally smile. Dropping a kiss on her hand I took a step back from her. "Get cleaned up and come down to dinner." 

I turned and left her there feeling lighter than I had in weeks. 


	13. XIII

Blood Moon 

Sydney Alexis 

XIII 

Word came from Crycus' spies that the king was growing weary of waiting. Proof enough came when a shipload fully loaded with a small portion of the king's army arrived to accompany myself and my troops to his homeland. I had been expecting the ship for days, even going so far as having my wives decorate the mead hall and palace in decadent fabrics. The king was never known for his patience. I was actually surprised that it had last this long. When a traveling merchant brought word of a well decorated ship whose passengers were horribly lost, I knew it was them. 

Provisions had been made to house the higher ranking officiates in the palace. The mead hall was large enough for the rest to bunk. I ordered the servants to start preparing the feast and rode out to the edges of my land and docks. Tuvok and several of my best men accompanied me. 

Through the myriad of ships and twisting market lanes we rode. The people stopping, bowing and making way as the guards rode ahead, my colors emblazoned on their steeds. The air was thick with suet and fire, bile and urine, and the ever present hammer and anvil of the smithies. Between the hovels and swarms of ashen faces of the crowds grew the mast of a large ship coming in to port. She was still nearing her mooring point as my small troupe arrived on the well-worn planks. 

Dock workers made their apologies and wormed through us to grab the mooring lines. The guards turned toward me, waiting for the signal to dismount, but I didn't budge. Strategically it was better to be on the horse--more impressive show of strength to distance yourself visually. That and I knew at least fourteen different ways to use the horse to kill those men for me. 

I blinked against the noon sun, taking in the massive vessel. It's girth took up the space of two smaller merchant ships. The bow was covered in intricately carved symbols used to cover the mother tongue's blessing for the ship. My gaze was drawn to the colors flying from the rear. It was the king's crest complete with cross and Latin phrasing. 

A plank was lowered to allow the men bridge the gap between the deck of the ship and the landing. The first across the plank was a well dressed man in full knight's regalia from the three hundred pound chainmail set to the ornamental sword. He would be an easy take. My swordhand was itching on the hilt. 

"Crycus I presume." 

His total lack of recognition of title did not go unnoticed by myself or my men. It was, in all likelihood an attempt to anger me and draw me into an armed skirmish with a king's soldier--an act of war according to the king's customs. His actions within the first few seconds of landing were enough to confirm that they had more than just one agenda to serve. 

I allowed my swordhand to tighten visibly on my weapon in response. It was neither ceremonial in design nor was it unused. 

"To what do I own the...'pleasure' of your visit?" 

"His Royal Highness King Solomon sent us under orders to fetch you and your army." 

I had to stifle a laugh wondering if this dolt practiced that line all the way here. 

"Fetch? I am neither a dog nor am I expected or ordered to do anything of the sort. You came here to _request_ I send assistance. Orders come from the king alone and, unless you were crowned in my absence from the motherland or you are carrying signed orders worded exactly as such from the king, I suggest you remember your station. I am a _Lord_ not some backwater misfit soldier. You will address me with title and you will address me on your knees until your memory no longer fails you." 

The seething hatred instantly melted across his face as a smirk dawned across mine. This truly was the expected, obvious move--the king sending an envoy of Christian men to 'fetch' me. The leader had to be a large, hunking man whom the king deemed a worthy fighter for Crycus. Time ago it would have been Thomas sent to do such a job. Of course I had never forgotten my place. 

I waited a candlemark and still the man did not move to his knees nor did he address me in the method that was proper. I watched in my peripheral vision as Tuvok drew a dagger from his belt. With a glance I stopped him. This was my punishment to dealt out. 

I released the stiletto concealed in my sleeve and watched it hit its target--a hairsbreadth from his heart. He grasped at the tiny blade and sank to his knees. A gurgling sound uttered from his mouth as the blade beside his heart beat in time with it. He was bleeding out slowly, eyes glazing over with death. Finally, he fell to his side, blood dripping from his lips into his beard. 

In the time it took for him to die, the deck of the ship was covered with men with blades drawn. Yelling and clattering of chainmail against the wooden boards. The entire scene was pathetic; his men were too lacked after their long journey. 

"Obviously the Old Coot isn't running his unit as closely as he once was. My men know that I do not accept any form of disobedience or disrespect to myself or my family. In return, I take care of my own. I will not have my men fighting along side any army that would turn on them. 

"You may take my word and this carcass back to the king. Once he sees the markings on the blade, he will know that cause was had for me to take this life," I said, pulling the reigns to turn. 

"If I may, Lord Crycus," the second across the plank began to speak and my view was drawn to him. The figure was cloaked but on his knees, head bend with the proper respect of the Old Days. "The king sent for you and your men. We were asked to leave as soon as possible." 

"If the king wished my help, he would have sent more respectful emissaries." 

"Solomon believed Sir Villers to be an honorable, Christian man, and, to some extent, it was true. However, he lacked esteem for those in power that do not follow the One God." 

"And am I to assume that you do?" 

"I was sent because I still follow the Old Ways, and, no, I do not expect you to believe me." 

"The king doesn't tolerate men that follow that path." 

The figure squared his shoulders, tensing ever so. It seemed as though I touched upon a sore spot--something I might be able to probe later on. 

"He does if they fight well." 

I laughed brusquely. "His methods of training are antiquated. His men poorly prepared." I should know. I killed all I faced. 

It was an intentional barb. One that Crycus would have made, and, in actuality, one that I wholeheartly agreed with. 

"Lord Crycus, you, yourself were trained under his methods, were you not?" 

I laughed aloud once again, this time in humor. This one was quick. I motioned for him to stand. I shifted in my seat, placing both my hands on the mount rather than my weapons. 

"Confidence and a strong will. You must be in command now." 

"I am," he replied with no sense of ego, no anger. 

"And how am I to address you?" 

He lowered the hood of his cloak and turned toward me. For the second time in my life, I felt my heart palpitate. I'd never expected to see him again, but, in retrospect, that thought had been foolhardy. Out of all the squires present, he had shown the most promise. It was why I had agreed to take him. 

The years had been kind to him in outward appearance only. He'd grown to be well toned, his skin darkened by hours working in the sun. The blade he wore was sharpened to a gleam but covered in knicks and gouges of battle. Face weary and deeply lined--wrinkles of worry and burdens too numerous to count. A scar on his eyebrow that ran past his left eye. Eyes that were hard, fathomless, and old. Hands that rested a little too easily on the hilt of his blade. What had become of him? 

"My title is Sir Harold." 

I felt Tuvok stiffen beside me in his saddle and knew that I had dropped character for much too long. 

"Well, Sir Harold, preparations for the trip will need to be completed. In the meantime, accommodations have been made for your arrival--lodgings and food. There is a meal waiting for you in the mead hall. My second in command, Tuvok, here will show your men the way." 

"Very well." 

"Should you need anything else, just ask," I said, turning the reigns and guiding my horse off toward the palace. It wasn't until I had placed a fair amount of space between myself and Harry that I felt the weight in my chest loosen. Breath coming more easily. 

I slowed my steed, letting her amble toward the fork in the road. I needed these few minutes to collect my thoughts. His presence here would serve to make things more difficult to remain secret. No doubt, they would be meeting up with the king's spies and learning the tidbits of intell they had managed to gather--odd patterns I had recently taken to, all the major movements I had made, anything out of character I had done not to mention the increased training. In all likelihood, Sir Harold would challenge me. If he had improved over the years as I had, it might be an even match. 

At the fork, I loosened the horse's reigns, allowing her to drinking from the shallow pool there. To the left, was the path to the castle where the wives were busy packing up their belongings and servants were preserving foods for the long trip. To the right, I heard the tale-tell sounds of my army practicing. When my ride had had her fill, I steered her toward the right. 

I rode straight to the training field where Neelix was schooling the men on archery--long distance, multiple arrows, and battling with them in close contact. His discerning eyes were following the line, making a mental list of those to place in the archery league. 

There was beauty in the plump man's movements. Smooth and calculated with no hint of the rigidity that he moved with when he walked. On the battlefield, in the silence and expected pattern of war, Neelix was, surprisingly enough, a hardened professional. His forte had proven to be long distance weaponry and guerilla warfare. Tiger traps, trip wires, and laying false trials were his preferences. He'd taught them all. 

I observed from a safe distance, watching Neelix watch them. In the shadows provided by the trees, I regained composure. I willed myself not to think of the one eventuality I thought I would never face--Harry. Time was he'd held Tuvok's place in my esteem. I'd watched him train and work with troops the way Neelix was now. I closed my eyes for a brief seconds, shook my head, and forced myself to focus on Neelix. Tuvok trusted him well enough to leave some of the training in his hands. Personally, I was indifferent to him. With the escalated time table, I found myself needing to make a decision. It was true enough the men trusted him, myself, and Tuvok. Neelix though...he was more approachable to them because he was lower on the command chain. He was not all business in training; he would joke with them when situations because serious, he took time out to meet all of their families, and he saw to it that each man had the supplies they needed. The latter fell under his position description. Meeting the army's family did not. There was a time I made it a point to do that, but I was quickly cured. Holding grieving widows as they pound on your chest and weep on your shoulder was enough. They always blame you, scream at you, ask you why you didn't protect their husbands never wanting the real answer--you were too busy protecting yourself. 

An handful of candlemarks after my arrival, one of the brighter soldiers noticed me and dropped to his knees. The others followed suit as I finally rode toward them. 

"As expected, the king's army has arrived. You will need to be more aware of your surroundings now more than before. In all likelihood, their scouts will be out trying to get a sense of how well prepared you are. Never forget that you are my men not the kings and that no man outside this grouping is to be trusted." 

"But, Lord Crycus, I thought we were the king's army through you as his extension," the unsure voice said. A path was cut of the men on either side of the speaker. I stopped my steed in front of him. Had he not been a strong fighter and had this not been a morale boosting speech, I would have cut him down. 

"Neither the king nor the king's men have made nor will make any preludes to you, and, if they do, it is only because you are a means to an end. In their eyes you are pagans with swordarms that exist solely to serve your purpose and to be cut down by the hand of their god. You are pawns to them, and they will treat you as such. On that battle field you can only trust yourselves and those you see around you. 

"It is for this reason that Neelix, Tuvok, and myself will be stepping up your training. You will be ability grouped by your best weapons and will learn mastery level techniques on them. Those of you with multiple weapon skills will be pulled aside and serve as my knights. You will need to be prepared for the king's proficiency testing and jousting. 

I swung down off my horse, my hand instantly falling to the hilt of my sword as I paced in front of the gathered men. They looked weary and lean. Their skin darkened deeply by the sun. Many long months of training had made them hardened physically and mentally. I knew, instinctively, they were ready to battle. That they were nearly at their peak level. I 

"Your progress has been steady over this year. When we began, some of your could scarcely raise a sword blade off the ground, and, today, some of you have mastered it. Others have found their skills lie with other weapons or medicine. You have come a long way and, though I have not said it before, I am proud of your progress. In my opinion, you have earned a short respite..." 

My speech was cut into by the uncharacteristic whoops of shock and joy. 

"However, I expect to find you all back in good health and spirits on the sunrise of the third day. Dismissed." 

The footfalls of my army rushing back toward town muffled the sound of hooves beating a slow path to the training grounds. As a result, I visibly reacted to Tuvok's unexpected voice. The Moors tried hard to hide his amusement. 

"Sir Harold requested the use of the training grounds as expected." 

I nodded mutely. It was standard practice after a long voyage. 

"Good. It will give us an opportunity to see how well trained the men are." 

"As well as divide our men into appropriate categories." 

"Solomon enjoys the standard prop and circumstance of the Old Ways. He will, in all likelihood, expect me to joust against his best man." 

"And when was the last time you did so?" 

"Fifteen years ago...give or take. Unless you count that time in Cairo. Of course...I was on a camel and my lance was actually more a stalk of papyrus." 

I turned to see Tuvok's raised eyebrow and had to fight the urge not to laugh. 

"There are not enough dinars in the world for me to tell you that story." 

"And dare I ask when the last time you jousted was Tuvok?" 

A snort came in response. 

"That long?" I said, laughing. 

"Perhaps you can ask young Sir Harold to practice with you." 

"Perhaps," I replied curtly, ending the friendly banter from before. 

Tuvok paused, looking out across the practice field. I followed his gaze through the well worn dirt and the deep gouges in the earth. Past the targets and discarded arrows to the walls surrounding the city. 

"He was my squire," I said it simply in a low voice that only Tuvok would be able to hear. 

"Will his presence here be a problem?" The question was worded carefully, each word spoken clearly. There was an unspoken question behind it and I had to force back the bile in my throat as I replied. 

"He helped me see my family to Elysian Fields, Tuvok. I cannot repay his kindness to me that night by ending his life without cause. I will simply need to be more cautious." 

"You will need to tell Kathryn." 

"It has been my experience that, should you wish a person to act naturally around someone, the best course of action is to take none so far as warning them." 

"Perhaps," he replied simply. 

"You think my decision unsound?" 

A beat. Tuvok's gaze remained on the earth as mine had before. 

"Before this date, I have found your choices to be logical...calculated for the most part, however, Kathryn has a tendency to do the unexpected. I have noticed, on several occasions, she has called you by your given name. While only in the presence of myself and you, she never took into consideration that someone might be listening in to your conversations. Whether consciously or not, one slip as such is enough for them to identify you." 

"And you suggest that a half truth is better than none?" 

"It is your choice ultimately, but I believe it would be the correct move. It would make Kathryn more aware of her speech and actions toward you. It would make the circumstances more real to her." 

I nodded, taking his suggestion under advisement. 

"Do you still wish for the upper ranking men to be housed in the palace? I'm sure accommodations could be made..." 

"It's standard practice, Tuvok. Not doing so would make them more suspicious. Just be sure to stow any equipment we don't want stolen in servant's quarters..." 

"And lock down rooms in royal areas to draw their attention. Understood." 

"Make sure all of my wives had guards with them at all times, and set up patrols of the taverns in town. Tell them to expect trouble tonight." 

"And should any of the men cause problems?" 

"Throw them in the dungeon until they sleep it off." 

"Understood, my Lord." 

I left his side, remounting my horse. 

"This evening, we will be having the standard feast to celebrate their arrival. It is customary for all dignitaries to attend." 

"I shall endeavor to attend, Lord Crycus." 

"Until then, the day is yours, Tuvok," I said, riding out of the field toward the fork in the road.


	14. XIV

Blood Moon 

Sydney Alexis 

XIV 

I arrived at the palace to find my wives essentially where I left them that morning--packing. Clothing littered their beds and trunks in various stages of being filled lined the halls and the floors of their rooms all save Constance whose one and only trunk sat locked in her room. She had been pulled into Ria's room to help with packing. I paused at the doorjamb to listen. 

"Ria...you have to recall Crycus' limit. There simply isn't enough space in the hold for all of your clothes and the food..." 

"Well...there is the space you left by only taking one trunk." 

"But the more you load down a ship with cargo, the slower it will sail and the easier it will be to sink." 

"Trunks make excellent floatation devices," Ria replied, unfaised. "If we're sunk, I'll grab onto one of my trunks and use my legs to kick myself to shore. 

Constance sighed, folding yet another dress to place in the third trunk that was rapidly filling. 

"Perhaps you should rethinking packing your entire wardrobe, Ria," I said, entering. I held my hand out to Constance who smiled as she walked towards me and took it. I sat on the edge of the bed pulling the slight girl into my lap, enjoying the red tinge that came to her cheeks at the affectionate display. 

"And why would I do that?" 

"We'll be stopping at several ports along the way. Surely you'll need the space to stowe your newest aquisitions." 

She paused to consider, while I dropped a kiss on Constance's brow. 

"You also have to remember that we won't set sail for several days. You'll need clothing...unless of course you plan on not leaving your rooms..." 

Constance laughed a deep, knowing laugh. "That shouldn't be a problem for Ria. She owns enough clothes for all of us to wear." 

I paused, taking in the four wardrobes that lined her walls. Two of them were opened and emptied. The third and four had their doors open and were half emptied--some on the bed, some in the trunk she was currently working on. 

"Why aren't the servants assisting you?" 

"They were needed to help in the mead hall..." 

"...and I won't have them pawing through my things," Constance started and Ria finished. 

"You'll need to be more careful now that they're here," I said softly, closing my eyes, enjoying the feel of Constance's hand through my hair. 

"Why's that," Ria asked, pausing her packing presumably because of my soft tone. 

"His men are mostly Christians. They see you as corteseans. Objects that are only protected so long as I am alive. You're all smart and beautiful and they would love nothing more than to break you for what you stand for--pagean marriage rites. They would assume that you knew what I looked like without this veil. They would resort to...less than Christian means to get you to describe me, to identify my body as Crycus." 

I felt Constance's hand stop, her body stiffen in my arms. 

"But we don't know what you look like. When you've taken us, it's always been in total darkness..." 

"Something they would never believe." 

"If you are ever caught in that situation..." 

"We never will be Crycus. I've seen you fight; you are formidable." 

"But I am one sword. Alone, against a small group or one on one, I would be able to hold my own, but Solomon's army is twice the size of mine. We will be outnumbered once we reach the homeland." 

"Then why train your men as roughly as you have? I've come across them in the fields. We all have. There is passion and purpose in your step when you train them..." Constance started. 

"...and, even if the king has a thousand men or a thousand thousand, numbers do not make up for quality. You've said it yourself a dozen times," Ria interrupted. 

"And if my men face that number, they will eventually fall--if not from a lucky blow than from an exhausted swordarm. You must be prepared for any eventuality." 

"Why are you telling us all of this?" 

"Because, of all the things you have been taught, you have but one lesson you must learn before tonight...before we leave." 

"That fatalistic speeches agrue bad tidings ahead?" Ria suggested, returning to her packing. 

I fought hard not to smile. This lesson was meant to be a serious. One that was taken seriously for the warning that it held. 

"No. That you need to know who you can trust." 

"And am I to assume you are going to tell me that I can always trust myself and no one else?" 

"Ultimately, yes, but, under these circumstances, you can also trust each other." 

"You expect all of the wives to trust one another? Need I remind you that Annika was making preludes to Chakotay? It was the reason you killed him and displayed his head well past the time of it being ripe with death. What makes you think that love or loyalty isn't going to make us turn on ourselves?" 

"You'll find, Ria, that when the lives of yourself and those in your group are at stake, they will be willing to bend their moral beliefs enough until you escape. By the time they return, you will have part company, and will be heading in opposite directions." 

"So we trust one another. And what of you...your advisors?" 

"I will do everything within my power to get those that I love out safely," I started, watching them both visibly relax at my admission. "As for my advisors, Tuvok has pledged his life to me. Beyond that, use your own judgment." 

I stood and moved toward the door only to be stopped by Ria's voice. 

"I suppose you'll be sharing this little morale boosting speech with all the wives?" 

"I am intrusting that wonderful mouth of yourse to repeat it for me, love," I said, willing her to recall her comment from days before. "Now, if there is nothing further you have to ask of me, I have business matters to attend." 

I bowed slightly and left the two of them to continue their packing. From Sortiria's room, I walked slowly toward the 'throne room' where I was set to meet with Arkin, my advisor, and several traders who had 'unreconcilable difficulties.' Problems that, in all likelihood, could and would have been solved in moments if Arkin had the intestinal fortitude to pull his blade on them and force the issue. Inside, I was trapped for several hours in a large, grandious room listening to the good people of my town blather on about insignificant matters. Matters that would have been dealt with by Chakotay before I cut off his head... 

From the staircase to the royal chambers, I headed south, past my personal dining hall toward my aforementioned doom. The room was brightly lit and dripping in expensive fabrics. At the rear of the room was a massive throne-like chair that was covered embroidered, red silk from Chin. The arms, legs, and all railings were covered in overly ornate, hand carved rosewood. To the right of this sat a more simplistic wooden chair upon which Arkin sat. Before both seats was the long wooden table that held land documents, petitions, and other paperwork that needed my attention. From the door to Crycus' hideous seat was a long, thin, red carpet presumably to show the 'commoners' how well off Crycus was because of them...that are a roadmap to find his seat. To the left and right of the red carpet, seated in ancient wooden chairs, sat the waiting masses of people who were their to have their disputes settled here, in my forum. The only things missing from this picture was the ridiculously heavy, jewel-encrusted crown and the trumpet fanfare. 

The moment I stepped onto the threshold, I knew it was going to be a long day...a very, very long day. The crowd was standing room only. Seats were being fought over. The guards stood by looking amused by the whole thing, and, in front of it all, Arkin sat, writing out an agenda. At least I could calm myself by knowing this was the very last time that I would have to do this. 

"Docket number 429. Selius versus Andrius. Selius claims that Andrius has illegally expanded his business into territory clearly staked for his family..." 

By the fifth, continuous hour of cases which seemed to essentially all be about the same problem--vendors selling on others property--I came to the conclusion that I was being punished for every wrong I had committed. Head buried in hands, I listened to Arkin drone on and on about the particulars of the case--locations, witness, times and dates. Finally, I grew fed up, sat up in my chair and directly addressed entire group gathered. 

"If you are here because of similar circumstances, raise your hand." 

"You come forward," I said, motioning to the four out of a sea of people. "Arkin," I started, turning toward the little man. From the expression on his face, I knew he was horrorfied at my break in ancient practices. "Mark all of the land in question as being remanded into my kingdoms care. All claims, be they ancient or not, have been dissolved. Any of those parties present that wish to reclaim the land they were fighting over, may fight to the death. Such will be the law for all future claims. Any inquries or petitions to do so must be directed to Neelix who will officiate over them. Those of you this was directed to are now dismissed from this palace," I finished, feeling satisfied for the first time in hours. 

From the throne room, I went directly to my chambers and collapsed onto my bed, Arkin following closely behind. 

"...you simply can't expect your people to fight to the death. It's barbaric and uncalled for. These people have done nothing but support you and to take away their land because you simply can't be bothered to listen to their arguements..." 

"...shows a lack of concern on my part. Arkin, you are missing the part where I care. Yes, of course, I realize that these people have been good to me. This is simply a means to an end. Making them realize that they should be happy with the possessions that they own is my only motive here," I said, speaking to the ceiling rather than them man. 

"But it's as if you are saying that the people whose land is being violated have no rights to stand up for themselves." 

I sighed, drawing in a deep, weary breath. "Release an edict. Tell the people to clearly mark their land's boundaries. Have them use their family's crest on each corner. If any disputes rise from this, then send teams to find the documentation and mark out those areas for them. Once they are up, increase patrol. At least until we've left with Solomon's men." 

"Thank you, Sir." 

"And in the future, I expect you to deal with these petty squabbles. I have far too much to do as it is." 

"Yes, sir," Arkin said, backing out of the room. Instead of hearing the creak of the hinges, I heard soft footfalls instead. My hand went to the dagger in my belt as I turned my head toward the door. My grip relaxed as I saw Kathryn approach. She smiled brightly, closing the doors behind her. 

"I thought you could use some company," she said, sitting beside me on the bed. 

"Silence and time to think actually." 

"That bad, huh?" 

"We're so close to being within the lion's den that mistakes at this point will be costly." 

"And trying to plan and covering all of Crycus' old job duties and trying not to out yourself in front of your countrymen is a bit exhausting," Kathryn teased. Her fingers eased through my hair, I closed my eyes at the sensation, feeling the mattress dip as she curled up beside me. 

"Poor little Thomas needs a nap," she whispered into my ear. 

I stroked the arm that came to rest on my chest. "You must be careful where and when you speak that name. Some of those men may know the tale." 

"And your death may mean our own...yes, Ria was more than happy to repeat your cautionary speech. You worry too much, Thomas. Why would the king tell his men about the night he turned his back on his own prize fighter?" 

"Stories can be changed to suit the needs of the bard." 

"And what the king speaks is always gospel. I've already learned that lesson," she said. 

Silence ensued as she traced her fingers along the scars on my chest. The moment was soft and intimate the likes of which I hadn't felt since B'El. I felt my breathing even out, deepen, and my heart beat slow. I trusted her. God help me I trusted her enough to fall asleep next to her full well knowing that not more than a few moments away was a group of men that could bring my ending, but, somehow, I knew she would never betray me to them. 

"I just wanted to spend some time with Thomas before he completely disappeared," she said softly, thinking that I had fallen asleep.


	15. XV

Blood Moon 

**Sydney Alexis**

XV 

Silence can be tangible. I felt it burrowing deep within the marrow of my bones. I felt it in the emotionless stare of the guards that shadow my steps and the villagers that eye me. Clipped words are favored in lieu of complete sentences--fear of lashings brought when in Crycus' presence too long. Fear borne of reputation and conditioning. All of it justified. 

From the moment word came of the impending arrival of Solomon's men, my mood changed. Careful, precise thoughts became clouded and my body felt weary. By ancient edict, my role of knight would have been passed down to my successor by now. I'd seen nearly thirty five winters--more than half the normal life length of a man. Advanced age and a litany of self-healed wounds brought twinges of pain I'd never known in my youth. Pain that slowed me down. Pain that saw some men fit only in the capacity of advisor. Temperature extremes exasperate these--ranges seen daily in this place. Despite the rigorous training and endless hours of preparation, I still felt ill at ease. I'd grown too content in this place. Rested too long not to notice that my life lacked any real cohesion. Years of travel without roots. Ties that bound me to the land for only brief rests. I'd been here longer than I'd been anywhere else, and I'd broken my cardinal law... 

A warm hand covered my shoulder. A bold, familiar touch that would only be dared by a select few. 

"I take it the carriage has yet to arrive." 

There was a hint of amusement in her voice. A joke between the two of us. I offered her a weak smile which she returned before slipping her arm into the crook of mine. 

Kathryn and I stood in the palace entry, enjoying a moment's respite, watching the rain pour down through open doors. It fell upon the land in drenching sheets, saturating the soil, turning dirt into mud and mud into a quagmire. In a place where rain was an infrequent occurence, it seemed like a fit setting for our forthcoming march toward the mead hall that evening. There, we were to meet with men that saw the rain as common as this 'mission' to retrieve Crycus' men. They had no idea what was coming. None of us did. 

From the depths of the byre, my stablemen located the dignitary's coach Crycus had ordered be made for his journey to survey his lands leagues ago. It was made of unpainted hardwood from the heart of Britannia, carved with roses vines, the Greenman, the Goddess, and Hermes, the patron god of travel. The interior had been ravenged by time and lack of upkeep--a fact that I railed the attendant for. White, silk encased cushions were stained by animal droppings, and spiders and rats had burrowed into the stuffing leaving it unusable. 

I cursed my lack of concern with what I perceived to be minor details and what Crycus would have seen as a 'need.' It was unseemly and common to have your wives arrive on horseback. However, my lack of attendance to such an event as anything but security or an assassin had left gaps in my knowledge base. It was for that reason that I found Kathryn's knowledge of proper conduct invaluable. While the other wives perceived the overriding stress of impending war as a cause for my apparent lack of concern for minor points, Kathryn saw fit to deal with small matters that she could attend to and bring all others to my attention--details like our mode of transportation to this infernal event. 

Which lead me to that morning's quandary...I stood in the byre, looking over a carriage that reeked of foulness. The stablemen stood beside me, visibly shaking as he awaited his punishment. Meanwhile, I stood looking at the carriage, breathing through my mouth to avoid the smell, trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. 

In need of transportation befitting a man of Crycus' known decadence, I ordered the padding ripped from the seating, the entire carriage to be cleaned, incense burned inside to remove the smell, and cushions to be made. I made a hasty exit from the byre, stopping only to utter a strict reprimand. 

"Are you worried about tonight?" 

Now, as we rode toward the mead hall, the girls perfectly coifed, draped in expensive gowns, giggling at how the heavy sandalwood smell in the air reminded them of temple, I was finally able to let my anger of the morning go. Anger would soon be replaced by fear as we neared the mead hall, however. Fear of being discovered. Fear of slipping in front of Harry. 

"All you need do is make an appearance, annoy them, and then leave," Kathryn had reminded me as we loaded into the carriage. I smiled at her and nodded, holding out my hand to assist her up onto the step. 

I'd been in the mead hall several times before that night. Each time was a morale booster for the men. A 'thank you' for all their hard work. The liquor flowed rapidly. The whores worked the room, and the atmosphere was drunken splendor. The men told tales that would fill the room with raucous laughter. 

Perhaps I allowed one too many of those nights-- for my own sakes as well as for theirs--but, in the end, my troops were conditioned to my banner alone. 

Those drunken nights of glee were but a dim shadow of the 'festivities' today. There was a deep solomness to the way that they sat, shoulders hunched, hands clasping their mead as a lifeline. Talk came only in low tones and only sporadically. Yes, they were eating and drinking but it seemed like they were merely going through the motions. Their eyes kept darting to Solomon's men, realization that war was upon us. I made a mental note to speak with them all. Rally them. After all, it was _my_ hand that helped train them. They were not disposable swordsmen to me as they were to Crycus. They were my hope for escape should things go badly in my 'homeland.' 

When we had arrived--fashionably late as expected--the room fell deathly quiet and all those gathered stood. Of course, there was trumpet fan fare and an overdressed harold to announce my presence (as if arriving with six wives wasn't oustentatious enough!) 

Old ways and new dictated I was to greet high ranking officials first, introduce any important members of my entourage--advisors, lieutenants, and wives--then be seated at the head of the table with the other party's leaders. It was then and only then that the army would be permitted to sit, and the musicians begin playing once again. 

I was reminded of the rules of conduct by each wives on the carriage ride. I was tempted to tell them what I thought of all this frilly niceties--hang them. Names were always something assistants were supposed to remember. Generals and lieutenants only took enough time to learn potential threat's names. Everything else was fodder. Handshakes, bowing, arm clasping will always be as useless as all the words before and after them. 

I regarded the sullen looks and shook my head. Hang the pomp and circumstance. I was _Crycus_ after all. When did I ever do what was expected of me? I nodded my head at the musicians to resume playing. 

"Gods above! It's like a funeral in here!" 

My men laughed, Solomon's glowered, and my entrance was officially made. 

My wives followed me to the head table where Harry was trying to hide his amusement. Beside him stood his four lieutenants. As I approached, Kathryn slipped her arm into mine and offered a smile. As my favored wife, it was her place, and her right to stand beside me. 

When I arrived at Harry's side, I nodded at him, giving him permission to engage me in conversation. 

"Good evening, Lord Crycus," he lowered his head and bowed deeply. The movement was the first I had taught him because Solomon perceived it as the most important. 

"Sir Harold," I replied, bowing in kind. 

"May I present my favored wife, Kathryn, daughter of Edward." 

I watched him register surprise at her. Her colorings gave away her heritage. 

Kathryn offered a smile. "So good to finally meet you. Crycus has told me much about you." 

This surprised Harry enough to register on his face. I smile and nod.

"Your skills with a sword and bow are quiet well known; it isn't every day Solomon manages to net a worthwhile fighter." 

"I was well trained by my master," Harry replied without a hint of ego. 

"Oh? Who is this master of whom you speak? Perhaps I have crossed blades with him." 

I was glad for the veil protecting my face as I spoke to him; I knew that the smirk on my face would have given me away. That and the fact that Kathryn's grip on my arm had increased ten fold. 

"I studied under Sir Thomas of Atreus." As Harry spoke, his eyes dropped. Almost a mournful tone colored his voice. 

"Tragic end that," I replied after a beat. Harry eyes dashed to mine, judging my sincerity. 

"I heard you killed Proteus, the man that assassinated Sir Thomas. I am indebted to you." 

Harry spoke this with a completely blank face. I waved a hand as if it was an unnecessary statement. 

"Actually, it was Kathryn here that managed it." 

Harry turned his gaze on Kathryn. This time it was more than a perfunctory glance. I could see the wheels turn and I knew he was reevaluating her. 

"I am surprised that you heard of Thomas or Proteus' death. Both names have long been forbidden in Solomon's domain," Harry replied, fishing for more information. 

"That still doesn't stop the gossips," I explained, allowing humor to fill my voice. 

Sorteria cut in, wrapping around my left side and smiling broadly at the assembled. I kissed her on the cheek, choosing to ignore the boldness. From my side, she peeled off, followed by the remainder of my wives to greet my army and give Harry and myself a chance to speak. 

"Tell me, Crycus, how do you keep up with all of those lovely concubines of yours?" One of the lieutenants acerbically voiced. 

"They are my wives, not my concubines," then turning to Harry, "I find myself reminding your party, once again, that I expect respect from your men. Had you not come into this hall under a banner of peace, I could cut out your man's tongue. " 

I paused to allow this to sink in before plunging ahead. This time I was sure to speak loud enough to have the hall pick up and echo my words. 

"I don't expect you to like or to join us in customs. I do, however, demand you show due honor to myself, my wives, and all the people of my lands. Am I clear?" 

"You speak as if you are the king, Lord Crycus. I remind you that you are only a _knight_ given charge of Solomon's protectorate," the same man replied. 

I bit my tongue, hand resting on the hilt of my blade. I could feel the variable thump-thump of my heartbeat and the tangible silence of the room. 

"You're right. I _am_ a glorified knight, but I am one who is trusted enough by Solomon to oversee his most profitable port. _I_ was the person he asked to raise an army, and _I_ am the one whose eccentricities Solomon puts up with solely because I am so successful at filling his coffers." 

Again, I paused to let my words sink in, and to finish ringing in the hall. I took deliberate time to look to my left and right. "Perhaps my eyes are deceiving me, Murdock, but I don't see _your_ army anywhere." 

It was following this heated statement that Kathryn chose to return to my side, taking my hand in hers and weaving her fingers through. She was careful to whisper soothing tones. To outsiders, it looked like nothing more than a wife preventing hand-to-hand combat in the beautifully decorated mead hall. To me , it was her clear attempt to keep me forming 'outing' myself to Harry. I sighed and took a step back from Murdock. My eyes found hers, surly dismissing the man the way that Solomon had done to me a thousand times over. 

"The main course is prepared. Should I signal the Boar's Head Fanfare?" 

I nodded, allowing myself to be drawn away to my seat. The beast was delivered to our table with all the flare that was required of such a meal, and we sat eating and making small talk. All six wives were making a great effort to gloss over the effects the 'incident' had on the conversation in the hall. 

I glance to my left. At the end of my table, Annika was seated, quietly chatting with one of Harry's lieutenants. Beside them is Neelix who is happily eavesdropping on their conversation while turning out Sorteria, Constance, and another lieutenant's conversation. Guessing by the slight blush that the lieutenant has taken on and the deep one that Constance is wearing, I could hazard a guess as to what Sorteria was blathering on about. As is customary in such events, Harry sat directly beside me. 

"I _am_ sorry for Murdock's words. He often speaks out of turn." 

I nod slowly, taking in Harry's appearance once again-- eyes dull and always scanning the room, hands covered in callouses and scars, movements were precise. Christ he looked like a warhardened general. 

"A leader is only as strong..." I began 

"...as the man inside," Harry finished, eyes narrowing. "Where did you hear that expression?" 

I shrugged, smiling at my own slip. 

"Something I picked up along the way." 

Harry nodded. No doubt trying to recall hearing if Thomas and Crycus had ever met. I needed to distract him. 

"Tell me, Harry, did you ever marry?" 

I watched as the man beside me grew still, his spine straightening perceivably. My words seemed to trigger a quick change in the man. One that I was not expecting. Granted, I had kept loose enough tabs on my former protege to know that he had yet to take a bride, but I was not expecting him to act as though it were a sore spot 

"No." 

His reply was curt. His eyes flared danger and an underlying message--don't pressure me on this issue. Of course, Crycus is known for being somewhat of an infuriating man... 

"Pity. Marriage can be a blessing." 

Or an incredibly heavy burden, I thought to myself. 

"Someone who knows what you're thinking without words," I continued, gesturing toward Kathryn. 

And they and others can use that knowledge to hurt you. 

"Haven't met the right girl? I could arrange something..." 

Harry cast an unreadable expression. "That is not necessary, Lord Crycus. It has been and always will be my choice not to take a bride. Marriage may be as wonderful as you suggest, but it is also a vulnerability." 

I nodded my head absently, taking a deep draught of the wine. It was the answer I knew he would give and the very one that I didn't want to hear. At least he had learned from my mistakes... 

The night wore on and finally enough time had passed to make leave of the festivities. All but Kathryn stayed under Tuvok's care, waiting to see if too much ale loosened tongues. 

I, on the other hand, retired immediately to my bedroom, and sat woodenly on the edge of the bed. I was glad to have it there because I felt as though my knees may give out beneath me. 

Heaving a sigh of relief, I busied my hands in my hair, finally free of the evening and of Crycus. I closed my eyes, recalling training sessions long past--teaching Harry how to hold a sword, deflect an arrow, and how to interact with those in power. That Harry had been incredibly young and inexperienced. He smiled broadly at everyone that offered a kind word. Every new skill and experience seemed like an adventure. 

Reconciling the difference between the Harry that I had known and the hardened man I spoke with tonight was difficult. This man stood tall, his eyes scanning for weakness. He spoke with clipped sentences and never without being prompted. He didn't smile, and his stare seemed devoid of emotion. There was scars, too. One above his right eye that ran into his hairline. Another on his swordhand. It was a light pink that suggested he'd received it years before. His nose had been broken once and not perfectly set. 

I sighed deeply. What had become of him? What had he witnessed to make him this way? 

Light footfalls echoed in the room approaching, hovering, and then finally coming to rest in front of me. Kathryn stepped between my knees, sinking to the ground. She wove her fingers through my hair. I sighed, turning into her touch, absorbing the comfort that she was willingly offering. 

"I should have asked him to come with me." 

"And if he hadn't?" 

I paused, considering it briefly. "No. He would have followed. He'd have seen it as some great adventure." 

"And if he had been killed while on one of these 'trips?'" 

I cringed at her euphemism. 'Trips' to assassinate key figures. 

"You're not sure you _would_ have become Proteus if he had come with you." A beat "And you knew what you were doing when you left him." 

I lifted my head, searching her face for understanding. She nodded, folding her hands in her lap. 

"I wanted him to have a chance at a normal life. A wife. Children." 

"Because seeing what happened to _your_ family would have been such a strong push toward settling down." she said, sarcastically. 

I glared at her, not believing those words had actually come from her mouth. My stare did nothing to soften hers; it only made her switch tactics. 

"Why don't you say the _real_ reasons you didn't bring him along?" 

I stood, stepping away from her, suddenly irritated with her proximity. She rocked back on to her heels, stood, and took my place on the bed. She allowed a small pause. I couldn't help but wonder if she was waiting for me to turn and face her or to stop her. 

"You knew when you left that you were going to kill Crycus..." 

Her voice was as soft as it had been earlier when she soothed me at the party. This time, however, I couldn't allow myself to become a pliant little boy following her lead. 

Eyes filled with anger and voice as harsh as I could muster, I replied. 

"Wow! Amazing revelation, swami! I guess you want a prize..." I said, rolling my eyes. 

Of course, she ignored my attempts to antagonize her and barreled right on. 

"And you knew Crycus was well guarded..." 

"Yeah. The rumors of which were _greatly_ exaggerated by the way." 

Suddenly I was very tired of this conversation. 

"You'd been trained as a warrior. Not as an assassin." 

She was advancing towards me, eyes gleaming as if she'd found the solution to some ancient mystery. I knew this look; it always meant I'd end up with a horrible migraine. 

"And you _knew_ the only way was to practice." 

I shrugged. It wasn't exactly a trade secret. 

"You also knew the kinds of situations you would be in..." 

"Yes. Danger, mystery, intrigue. Really amazing sleuth work. It's taken you _this_ long to realize my contacts were of the shady variety?" I asked in an annoyed tone. I was trying to make her angry and avoid the very real and very dangerous point that she had no right to touch. 

"You also realized that Harry was the only family that you had left," she said, softly. "And you didn't want to risk his life." 

She threw out the statement like it was nothing. Nothing that I hadn't thought about a thousand times before. That all too present 'L' word had loomed over nearly every conversation I had held all night. The stinging, brutal truth. How _lovely_ of her to pick at old wounds. 

"Yes. Harry was like a son. He and I would sit, drink tea, and discuss the writings of Homer," I drolly replied, flopping back onto the setee. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose trying to stave off the headache that was starting to pound with renewed strength. 

She sat silently for a moment at my feet. Then, I heard her shift beneath me on the floor. Her touch to my shoulder and the words that followed scalded me. 

"He's seen you at your worst, and he still loves you. _That_ makes him family." 

That was what made it so hard to walk away then as I have to now. That was why I had trained so long. Why I had intentionally attempted to harden myself. I sighed. I should have known that an hundred years and a thousand miles couldn't have made me distance myself from feelings I had for him. _Nothing_ could have prepared me for what lie ahead. Perhaps I had expected him to simply walk away from the life I had etched for him. What a foolhardy idea indeed. 

I was left with two options--let him in on our scheme or lie to him. Either way I would lose. 

Lost in my thoughts, I never heard Kathryn rise and leave. She didn't return that night. 


	16. XVI

Blood Moon 

**Sydney Alexis**

XVI 

Tuvok and I rode out the following morning to the training grounds to watch Solomon's "army" practice. Even from a distance I was painfully aware of their clunky movement. The question was whether or not their poor fighting skills were a put on or not. 

Tuvok drove my thoughts home when I heard him snicker. 

"Perhaps incompetence is catching?" he suggested. 

"I should hope not! I don't want to think what last night's meal night have scrambled in my army's minds." 

I motioned the horse forwards, and, at a non-threatening trot, Tuvok and I moved toward the motley crew that Solomon dubbed an army. 

Each man had been paired with a sparring partner. Between every four pairs, there was a wide enough space for the lieutenants to walk through, stop, and offer suggestions. That was the theory anyway. These 'leaders' merely sat on the grass, sharpening their swords, clearly enjoying themselves. 

Harry sat a distance away at the base of the tree Kathryn, Tuvok, and I often sparred under. Disgust was evident on his face. 

Tuvok and I rode up between Harry and the lounging lieutenants. 

"Gods above! Please tell me that you somehow lost the good army and replaced them with a merry band of idiots." 

I watched Harry smirk in my peripheral view. To be honest, I was slightly miffed he wasn't working with them to attempt some form of improvement. At the very least, they deserved a fighting chance should the battles continue. 

I dismounted and grabbed my sword and scabbard from my horse before turning her loose to feed. A quick nod to Tuvok and Harry, I approached his lieutenants. They looked clearly annoyed, but said nothing. 

"You," I said, pointing to Murdock with the point of my blade. "Stand." 

"What for?" His reply came with glaring eyes. 

I rose an eyebrow. "Exhibition match," I replied evenly. 

"You got to be kiddin' me! Hasn't been one of those since Caesar's days," he snorted. 

"Back home perhaps. Here, no. Stand. I challenge you." 

The lieutenants began to heckle me. Finding no amusement, I reached for the dagger in my belt and let it fly at Murdock. It pinned the fabric of his pants to the ground scant inches from his groin. He shot me an incredulous look. 

"Challenges that go unfulfilled call for the man in avoidance to face The Gauntlet or execution. So...get you ass off the ground, pick up your weapon, and face me." 

"This should be easy," he shot over his shoulder to his friends, snatching up he sword. 

I nodded, moving into the clearing and closer to the army. Gods he was easy to goad. 

Murdock took a customary first stance. Both hands tightening on the enormous, heavily decorated hilt, his eyes seemed glued to my body, waiting for me to make a move. That and the emotions in his eyes-- a twinge of fear but mostly arrogance--were his greatest tell. 

The ancient rules of exhibition called for only one man to exit the ring, for no one to interfere, and mercy--life or death in the event of a draw-- came only at the highest officials present's discretion. In this case, myself. 

Murdock began to shift his weight to his right foot, impatience at my lack of attack. 

I counted, swung my sword to his left, jarring him from his balance. I struck next at his knees, hitting them with the flat of my broad sword. Had this been a real battle, I would have used the blade itself and severed his legs. 

Murdock released a pitiful cry at the sudden blast of pain and fell to his knees. The sword dropped from his hand in shock, but I wasted no time following it or his downward fall with my eyes. 

I swung my sword down with fury stopping at the base of his skull. The blade nicked this skin enough to draw blood. 

"Death blow," I said with disgust. 

I took a step back, returning my sword to its sheath and offered my hand to help him to his feet. He shook his head, rising under his own power instead. 

I turned to the army who were all watching with quiet interest. 

"I just defeated your lieutenant in three moves. The point of a sparring match isn't just to practice. It's to find and fine tune weaknesses. If you lose, you have to figure out why. Even if it means asking your opponent." 

I turned to Murdock, seeing his face sour. 

"What was your first mistake?" I asked him loud enough for the others to hear. 

"Deciding to let you win," he replied, sticking his chin out to emphasize the point. 

"If that had been the cause...if you had truly intended to let me win, you never would have 'permitted' me such a quick defeat. Nor would it have left you nursing two bruised knees. Now. Try again." 

He rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed. 

"I allowed myself to be talked into this trip?" 

The army behind me laughed and I bit the inside of my cheek to avoid it as well. Slowly, I turned from Murdock and walked into the clearing again. This time carrying Murdock's sword. I set the blade in my hands, instantly feeling the extra weight of the ornamental leather braiding. I flipped it over in my hand a few times, noting subtle changes that needed to be made to move the clumsy object. Finally, I turned back to Murdock. 

"What was your first mistake?" I repeated. 

He shook his head, muttering under his breath _exactly_ what he thought of me and this entire situation. 

"Your first mistake is choosing a sword that is pompous. An attempt to make up for your shortcomings, perhaps?" I said, turning toward Murdock before turning the hilt toward him to grab it up. He did, grudgingly, to the peels of laughter coming from the 'army.' 

"What was the second?" The question asked with full eye contact between us. He shifted in the dirt uncomfortably and I knew his response without asking. 

"Or were you too caught up in the moment to analyze your mistake?" 

It was a fault with all those young, cocky, inexperienced fighters. They acted without thought before they understood what reactions to take. Muscle memory would only go so far before it would fail you. 

Murdock's eyes widened a fraction then returned to normal as I suspected they might. 

"Aye, Lord Crycus." 

I nodded, absently. Decided not to let the smirk at my suddenly-appearing-title come to fore. 

"Pay closer attention next time," I chastised, voice low enough only Murdock could hear. 

"Did anyone notice how I managed to get the upper hand?" I tired wording the question differently to draw the answer out. Silence. And then... 

"His footwork. You knew what actions he was going to make before he made them so you countered." 

I turned toward the sound of the voice, half-smiling when I realized it was Dargo, one of _my_ lieutenants. 

"Good." I said. It was one of my highest compliments. "Guess you paid attention during that lesson." 

He laughed and shook his head. Dargo had ended up sharpening every training weapon more than once because of lack of focus. 

I motioned for him to stand. He did, taking up a sword. He knew what was coming. With an unperceivable nod he began circling me as Murdock had done moments before. This time, we exacted movements with deliberate slowness. I pointed out what items tipped me off. Not that any of them would retains any of this... 

Finally, I nodded to Dargo again this time in a silent thanks. He re-sheathed his sword and bowed deeply. 

"Always an honor to spar with you, my Lord," he said before turning and making his way back toward the city gates. 

I turned back toward the army. 

"You are expected to find weakness in your own technique because, when the practicing stops and the real confrontations begin, your enemy will use them to kill you." 

Then, I cast a harsh glance at the four lieutenant still sitting mutely in the grass. 

"And it is _your_ charge to help them find it. To keep them alive so that they will be able to return home to their families when their service to the king is over." 

"What was your third mistake?" 

I asked, smiling.. 

A bout of long silence followed. I heard Tuvok shifting in his saddle. _This_ was a lesson I had had to teach him and not long after I had first met him. 

I turned, scanning the army, the lieutenants, and, finally, Harry. My eyebrow was drawn with an unvoiced statement. 'I am not leaving until I get an answer and neither are you.' 

Men shifted from foot to foot. Weapons were discreetly lowered to the ground, but still no one spoke. Finally, when I had grown tired of this entire scene, I heard a soft, even reply. 

"He underestimated your opponent," Harry stated. Never, during all of these matches had he paused from whittling away at a piece of wood. 

I re-sheathed my sword to indicate that my teaching session was finished. I turned to the lieutenants with a blank stare. 

"I suggest the four of you get off your asses and start training your men." 

They nodded wordlessly, stood, and began weaving through their army. Rather than follow them or ride back to the palace, I walked over to Harry and slid on the ground beside him. 

It was at this proximately that I could see a small figure taking shape. Dagger dragging deftly across the blank. Never stopping. Never hesitating. It was a hobby he'd taken up again while studying with me. Something his father had taught him. Over the years, it came to mean different things to him. At first, he missed his family. As his training progressed, it was his way of winding down. After his first kill, it became his way of focusing on anything other than what he had done...and had yet to do. 

"They're your men now. _You_ should have been the one to do the speechifying. 

His dagger stopped mid-swipe. Shock registered in lack of movement. Then, a fraction of a second later his hand began moving anew. 

"And convincing these men they are terrible fighters on the eve of battle is wise?" 

I laughed honestly at him. 

"Probably not," I said dropping my voice. "But the training that they receive between now and the battle may be the difference between them going home to their family or not." 

A fiery looked darkened brown eyes then turned cold. I felt a shiver run down my spine. It was the same bleak look I'd seen cast in my own a thousand times before. Funny how something so small could unnerve me. I stood quickly to put distance myself from those thoughts. 

I looked down at him. 

"I heard you studied under one of the best," I said, laughing inwardly at my ridiculous joke. 

A pause while my words seeped in. A clouded look crossing his features. Sadness tined with bitterness. Carving never stopping. Eyes never leaving the blank. 

"Aye." 

"Well then, you should have no worries about a face-off, Sir Harold," I said, offering him a hand. 

He paused, considering the hand in front of him. The blank and dagger were carefully placed beside him. 

"If you wish," he said, taking my hand. I hefted him to his feet, offering him my sword. Eyebrows raised, he took the hilt, fingers lingering a moment longer as he stared me down. 

I stepped back, drawing my katana from the scabbard from my back. Circling, watching. The hilt left his hand, flipped, and returned. An act I'd taught him. One he'd sliced his hands up learning. It was meant to intimidate the opponent, but it made me smile. 

Both hands on the hilt of my blade, I rotates left, leaving only one side exposed. I took in his stance--which revealed nothing--and began looking for hidden daggers. Gauntlets, ankles, waist... 

His shoulders dropped, sword arm flying toward me. The katana crossed in front of me, halting the movement. What followed were a rapid series of strikes and parries with such skilled movements that I could have swore he and I had choreographed each step. Finally, I took a step back, chest heaving partially from the exertion but mostly from the adrenaline rush coursing through my veins and the answering call of my body to delve into survival mode. He'd definitely gotten better over the years. 

He turned, sword arm spinning rapidly to distract my eye from the dagger he'd palmed in his left hand. I dropped the katana, rolling past him, picking up the hilt as I tumbled forward. I brought the blade up as I stood. The flat of it struck out to meet his blade as I used my dominate hand to strike his left wrist. I used enough force to leave a bruise and merely muttered 'break.' The dagger instantly dropped as did his arm. 

Rules of these matches were straightforward--no real, permanent damage was ever done. It was always one-on-one, and only actions that would happen if this were a real match in battle. Granted, a broken wrist could be fought with, but at great pain--present and future--to the owner. 

We circled each other again, me smirking him stone faced. 

"What was Murdock's second mistake?" I asked as we circled. It was a taunt. Murdock had simply reacted to my actions--rather poorly I might add. 

The wind shifted north to south and I could smell rain heavy in the air. This match would need to end before the delude. 

"What was the first lesson your master taught you?" Another distraction technique. 

"Always knock before entering," he replied with a smile. The comment met with laughter from the gathered forces. 

I lulled him into conversation to distract him into false security. Clasping both hands on the hilt of the katana, I switched back to my dominate hand, knowing he'd take the bait to attack. Hand over hand I withdrew a dagger into my dominate hand. 

I arched the katana's blade toward his side, meeting with the parry I anticipated. As I swung my sword arm up to draw his fire, I brought my left up to his neck, dagger digging into his neck. 

"Match." 

"Draw," he said, smiling. 

His blade had parried mine and forced it against the inside of my bicep--right against my heart line. In my adrenaline rush, I hadn't felt his blade slice through my sleeve or break the skin. A deeper slice, left untreated for more than a few beats, would lead the fighter to bled to death. I smiled broadly. 

"Well done, Sir Harold." 

I took a step back and then another. Inside, I was shaken. I hadn't come this close in some time. 

My katana re-sheathed on my back, I nodded to Harry. He flipped his borrowed sword, turning hilt toward me to recover it. I nodded again taking it from his hand. It was the sword I'd killed thousands of men with over the years including Crycus' in my village. It was the first sword to draw Harry's blood when he was in training. Never before had it been wielded against me. Never had it drawn my own blood. 

I took the sword from him and returned it to the scabbard at my hip before speaking again. Voice dropped so that only he could hear. 

"They might not like you, and the feeling may be mutual, but they are _your_ men. Men that will only follow you if they respect your abilities. _Never_ forget to remind them." 

"The last thing my master taught me was never to trust anyone in battle. _Including_ those same men who rode in with you to battle. " 

I shook my head at the memory this drug up. It had been just after I'd returned from running yet another 'errand' for Solomon...it served as a reminder that he only tolerated a pagan in his court because of my skill. 

"You don't have to trust them. You don't have to like them. You just have to train them enough to prevent you from having to kill the entire army on your own. Trust me; I've tried," I said, offering a weak smile that I knew he could not see. 

With that, I took a step back, returned to my horse, and rode back to the palace barely aware of Tuvok's presence behind me.

* * *

When I arrived back in my quarters, Kathryn was waiting on my bed. Her face devoid of all emotion save the eyes--filled with hurt. 

"You didn't tell me that you knew him." 

I locked the door behind me before throwing off the turban and wrap. My hands instantly ran through the newly freed hair. Gods above! I wasn't in the mood for this. 

I unwrapped the belt at my waist, setting my sword on the chaise near the dresser before removing the heavy vest and ruined silk shirt. My eyes went briefly to the wound Harry had inflicted. 

"And what would you have me say?" 

Back still turned toward her, I moved to the pitcher and basin in my room, cleansing the wound with a sea sponge. 

"I expected you to tell me." Voice neutral. 

My reply tumbled from my mouth unchecked. I was too tired to play the part of the good little collaborator. 

"Strategically, it was unwise to do so." 

She stood, voice raised in anger. 

"Screw strategies, Thomas. You should have trusted me." 

"You would have acted differently with him. He and the other wives are too perceptive to risk it." 

"You _assume_ I would have acted differently." 

"A few months of pretending is not enough rehearsal." 

"Rehearsal? These months have been a hell of a lot more than a rehearsal and you know it. I've stood by you. Helped you protect who you are. Even though the _slightest_ word could have seen you strung up like Chakotay. The least you could have done..." 

Thinly veiled threats had always been a particular favorite of mine. Every man that had hurled them against me had found themselves on the receiving end of my sword. Except Solomon, but that would come in time. Of course, I knew Kathryn would never see her threat through. That was the only reason she was still standing and I was permitting this conversation. 

"Harry isn't Solomon. He's not stupid. I trained him to be a fighter. Helped him hone his skills. Taught him to never trust anyone. Any odd word, movement would make him suspicious." 

"And what do you call all those hints you dropped at dinner last night?" 

I scowled. "I was thrown by having him there," I said, honestly. "Part of me can't forget our friendship." 

"I've watched you for months, Thomas. Nothing you do is emotional. It's all preplanned." 

I smiled at that. If only she knew... I sighed, figuring she deserved to know at least some of Harry and I's shared past to understand why I was acting the way I was. 

"I was barely twenty winters when Harry became my squire. The first boy I'd trained had been knighted, the second fell in battle months before, and I found myself without so much as a page," I started, pausing to tie a clean rag over the still-bleeding wound. Little shit cut me deeper than I originally thought. 

"When he first arrived, he was a small, scrappy thing. Shy. With these long black bangs that covered his eyes. And he had this look...like he was amazed by everything that he saw. 

"He was assigned to Telemaches, son of Hammermine. Real task master that one. Beat the hell out of the boy with a staff the first night for not bringing him his dinner in a timely manner. 

"He kept railing him on a regular basis for any reason--sword being too dull or too sharp, boots not cleaned to his specs, whores not blonde enough...you name it. 

"One night, it happened right outside my door. Telemachus was going on about Harry stealing bread or some nonsense while beating the poor kid with a spiked staff," I paused, shivering at the memory. 

"I'd just arrived from Ithaca, exhausted and annoyed. I opened the door fully intending to stop the noise..." 

"What happened," Kathryn asked after a long pause. 

"I opened the door, and there was Telemachus, reeking of ale. He turned on his heel and left. It was then that I noticed Harry struggling to his feet." 

I closed my eyes, the memory taking me fully. 

"He stood up, eyes downcast just like he had been trained." 

'Need anything, Sire?' 

"His lip was split in two places, one eye was swollen shut, he could barely breathe from a couple of broken ribs, he was bleeding all of the place, and the kid _still_ was following protocol," I said, pride filling my voice. 

To this day I don't know what possessed me to do it, but I pushed the door all the way open. I slipped my arm around him--ruining my favorite tunic I might add- and drug his boney ass to the stool by the fire. 

I told him to strip--he stank of blood--then brought the basin and pitcher for him to clean up. Gods above the kid was a living bruise! 

I wrapped his chest to help his ribs, brought him a clean tunic to wear, a pillow and a blanket, and told him to sleep. 

I paused before continuing my story. 

"The next morning, I went to the king, and asked to become Harry's master," I paused, turning toward Kathryn. 

"I was younger than Telemachus. Not nearly as seasoned in battle. But, at the time, I had Solomon's favor." 

"The king called for an Exhibition Match." 

I heard Kathryn gasp. She knew the score. 

"An Exhibition Match? For a _squire_?" 

"More than that...for Telemachus' pride." 

"You won...obviously." 

I nodded, grimly. The fight had left me near dead, but she didn't need to know that. 

"Aye." After a near hour long fight. 

"And Harry?" 

"Healed up fast and started training in earnest for knighthood. The boy was a prodigy. Mastered the staff in a week. Archery in two... throwing daggers, axes. The kid was amazing." 

"You love him," she voiced, understanding filling her tone. 

I cleared my throat, unwilling to reply. I turned my back from her and headed straight for the bar across the room. 

"A year after I started training him, Solomon sent me north on a scouting expedition. We encountered...resistance." 

I closed my eyes, drowning a shot of rot gut. 

"We crowned a valley and there was a century waiting. 100 men to our twenty. I asked to speak to their general and their archers began firing. Three of my men fell beside me. We were left with two options--fight or die." 

I heard Kathryn shift uncomfortably at the images I was painting, but she thankfully kept quiet. 

"Against that many, it was straightforward--minimum of movements and all deathblows. We fought...I don't know how long. An endless pack of dead bodies. My sword was so bloodied that it dripped down the blade and coated my arm. My daggers were long gone, and my arms were aching from keeping up. 

"And it was loud. So fucking loud . Metal striking metal. Shrieks of agony. Bodies reeking of death and copper heavy in the air. I don't know how, but through all of it, I heard Harry scream my name. Piercing and panicked. 

"I killed the two guards I had in front of me and turned, preparing to help Harry out of whatever trouble he'd gotten into." 

I stopped, threading a visibly shaking hand through my hair. The ill feeling from earlier's near close call filled me again. 

"There, on the ground, was a guard. Harry's throwing dagger--the one I'd given him for his last birthday-- was wedged at the junction between the guard's head and spine." 

I barely registered Kathryn's gasp as I finished my tale. 

"I hadn't felt or heard the guard, but there he was. Arm still holding the blade he would have cut me down with." 

I looked up at Harry and nodded before delving back in. When it was all done, I was down to three men--including myself and Harry--but we'd captured the general. 

"He saved your life." 

I turned toward her then, a faint smile on my lips. 

"Yeah. He saved my life." 

A beat and then I added the final pieces. 

"He walked me home on the nights I'd taken too much ale. He polished my boots. He made me laugh. Talked me into taking him to his first brothel. Took care of me when I fell so ill with Fever I could barely breathe. He helped me see B'El to the other side, and he never came looking for me despite the fact that he could...and would have easily found me. So you will just have to forgive me for forgetting myself when I sat beside him at dinner." 

As I spoke, I crossed the room, sitting beside her on my bed. Her hands began weaving through my hair in a comforting gesture she had began months before. 

"You're playing a dangerous game, Thomas," she replied finally. 

An uncomfortable silence followed. Her hand stilled in my hair. I knew she was working up the courage to say something, and I knew it was something that I didn't want to hear. Finally, she spoke. 

"One day you might have to choose." 

I twisted to face her, eyebrow raised. 

"Between your blood quest and Harry." 

"There is no choice. My course has been in place for years..." 

"You have to avenge your family," she finished. 

I nodded. 

"But the part you seem to be forgetting is that Harry is also your family. More than a brother. More than a friend. He's seen parts of your life that you will never share with another person." A beat as she drew in a deep breath. "If you decide to keep on this path, you will have to face him whether you like it or not." 

My stomach was churning. I had already thought of all of this. I had just been avoiding it. 

"Unless of course your love for this boy so deep you'd choose to ignore your oath?" 

I was shaking with rage and deep desire to strike her. 

"Bite your tongue, Kathryn." 

Unfazed, she continued. 

"Five years is a long time to mourn the dead, Thomas." 

I felt my jaw jut out in barely controlled fury. 

"When are you going to realize that my family, my oath are none of your concern?" 

"When are you going to realize that that Harry isn't the boy you trained? That he had ever chance to leave Solomon's lands, but didn't." 

I stood, turning a heated gaze at her. 

"Harry had no choice. The only way for a warrior to leave is through The Gauntlet and even if he survived that, it would bring shame to his whole family. Not to mention all their land would be revoked. Land his parents depend upon for their livelihood. Perhaps the idea of sacrifice sounds vaguely familiar?" 

She recoiled as if I _had_ hit her, face drawn. I felt my face and voice soften. 

"We're all Solomon's puppets whether we realize it or not. The only thing Solomon can't control is who we choose to love and be faithful to." 

She nodded, absorbing my comment. Her hands rose from her hips to cross in front of her. Distancing herself. Protecting herself. 

"You're forgetting one key piece." 

I raised an eyebrow, questioning her silently. 

"Where does Harry's loyalty lie?" A beat. "As far as he knows, Thomas was killed by Proteus." 

"I had thought of this..." 

"Crycus ordered your family's...end. He won't trust you either." 

"No, he won't." 

"And he might try to finish Thomas' blood oath if you two were as close as you say." 

I sighed, drawing a hand through my hair. This conversation had grown far too dangerous. 

"You want to know if I plan on 'outing' myself to him?" 

She nodded seemingly unmiffed that I'd finally landed on the question she'd been hedging towards. 

"I don't know." I replied honestly. 

Suddenly I felt as though I was stranding at the top of that hill, looking down at a waiting battle my whole life, and I felt weary.   
  



	17. XVII

Blood Moon 

**Sydney Alexis**

XVII

Miral rode in the saddle in front of me. I held her in place with one hand and held the horse's reigns with the other. Riding on Cali seemed to be the only thing that would lull her to sleep these days. 

"Papa?" 

"Yes, Miral?" 

"Are you sure you gotta go back?" 

I sighed. B'El and I had had this conversation the day before. I suppose she'd decided to call in reinforcements. 

"Yes, poppet, I do." 

"Why?" 

"Because I made a promise and a good man always keeps his word." 

"But Sara's daddy fought in the war and _he_ doesn't have to go back." 

"Sara's daddy was just a soldier. He swore to protect the kingdom during the war. I'm a knight, and I swore to protect the kingdom my whole life." 

"But you swore before you met Momma. You didn't know you'd be swearing away your life with us. Besides, you promised to protect Momma too. You weren't here when that mean old bull, Silas, threw her off the harvester. She broke her arm and hurt her head. Ms. Nora had to come and help Momma around the house. 

"Ms. Nora said she didn't mind 'cause it was doing Hestia's work." 

I paused, feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of me. B'Elanna hadn't mentioned any of this to me. And when had Miral became this insightful? 

"By fighting in the war, we were keeping everybody safe. Not just you and your friends, but everyone." 

Miral turned around to look at me, nose scrunched up in thought. 

"But what if Momma had hurt herself worse? Wouldn't you have broken your promise?" 

My heart started to beat faster and I pulled Miral closer to me seeking comfort. 

"You ask too many questions, poppet."

* * *

I felt the ship lurch beneath me. The wood moaning as the wind pulled it back into the ocean. Before us, sailing out from the Cretan dock, were the three leading vessels. 

In military tactics, the general _always_ rides in the lead vessel. It allows for an unobstructed view and is easier to direct the other vessels. It also makes it a remarkably large target especially given murmurings of impending war and of troops gathering in the north. Enemies of Solomon--fewer in number than ever before were growing desperate according to gossips and Harry's own men. 

Random guerilla attacks thinned out soldiers on border posts, but, for every man rebels killed, another was dispatched to replace them. 

My troops represented the largest contingent heading toward the already fortified capital; it would be foolhardy _not_ to attack our ships. Most likely, they'd hit at night. The forward and rear of our caravan were responsible for lookout--my men not Solomon's were in the crow's nest. 

As we moved out of 'friendly' territory, our time at port grew shorter. Days became hours. Water barrels filled, food purchased--both tested on merchants and runners to check for poisoning--before setting off. Barely making land and _never_ at a major stop. Never with a predictable pattern either. 

I was acting somewhat paranoid and, on many levels, like a true general. My men said nothing--speaking little. They knew better than to question. Harry merely raised an eyebrow as I ordered us past several of the larger ports without stopping. 

Most of my 'trouble' came from my wives and Harry's men who had hoped for fresher meals and baths. 

Finally, after we passed the Straight of Gibraltar, Harry cornered me. 

"Do you plan on landing anywhere for longer than a candlemark? My men grow weary." 

I laughed brusquely. "Since your men grow 'weary' of servicing their own needs, perhaps they can help each other out." 

He laughed at my statement, and I realized it was the first time I'd heard this sound in almost six years. 

"So you haven't lost your sense of humor." 

He said nothing in reply. Eyes merely looking me over as if he'd never looked at me before. It was unnerving. 

"You grow more cautious as we near our homeland." Statement not question 

"There is rumors of war." Bait 

"If there is, so be it." Ignored. 

"So you see it as just another fight?" 

"Aye. I pledged myself to Solomon. If he orders me to fight, I will." 

"And if he ordered you on a suicide mission..." 

He shrugged. "I will die when the Gods wish it. When my tasks are done." 

"And yet you pray to them. Make sacrifices to them...do you always do what is expected of you?" 

His eyes narrowed and grew darker. Trained on the ocean in an unwavering stare. 

"Not always." 

"So there is hope for you yet." 

He smirked. "Maybe an age ago."

* * *

"You've mastered every standard weapon." 

"Aye." 

"In fact, I've almost taught you everything you'll need to serve as a lieutenant." 

"Oh? What's left to learn, sire?" 

"Warfare on sea." 

Harry paled as I said this, and I tried not to laugh at this fact. 

"I'd always just assumed we'd wait for them to land on shore." 

"And when Solomon asks you to expand his territory?" 

"We march there." 

"And if it were shorter by sea?" 

"It would give the men endurance training." 

This was all said with such certainty. Poor Harry. I was trying so desperately not to laugh when I asked my next question despite the fact that I had already sussed the answer. 

"Harry, are you afraid of water?" 

"Nay. Just get seasick easily." 

I laughed. "That was something that my master cured me of quite quickly" 

"Oh?" 

"At the time he took me out to train me, my head was filled with tales of marauders and pirates and storms at sea. 

"He had them take us out until there was no land and no ships visible for miles. Then, he turned to me and said, 'It's time to learn not to fear the sea.' 

"He threw me overboard with one, big push." 

Harry gasped. I turned my gaze to his and offered him a smirk. 

"Which, of course, I didn't take well..." 

Harry's gasp turned into a laugh. I'd imagine it was one of the few times he had allowed himself to see me as something other than the larger than life fighter and more of the hapless squire. 

"He was waiting for me to call for help from him..." 

"But, of course, you didn't want to be involved with any of that." 

My smirk broadened into a smile. Harry knew better; I'd already taught him this lesson in a less direct method. 

"So I swam around the ship, looking for a way to climb up. The whole time, he was watching me, smirking, waiting." 

I paused and turned toward Harry. My eyes caught his and held them. There was a morale to this story, and I would be damned if he wasn't going to get it. 

"It was a test. One that I was meant to fail. One to keep me in my place, but I wasn't in the mood to be 'taught.' So, I dug out my ankle daggers, and used them as grips to climb up the side of the ship." 

Harry's jaw dropped. I expected him to issue his usual 'No shit!' as was per usual when I regaled him about my time spent in purgatory. 

"He watched me, face red with anger. I knew he would rail on me the moment that I was in range." 

"I take it he did?" 

I smirked at him. Rhetorical question. 

"Not until after I showed him up." 

Never mind the fact that he threw me overboard and made me swim to shore that I was nearly dead from exhaustion and thirst. When I arrived back at the palace, he threw me in the stockade for a week. 

My 'master' was the fourth man I killed after I became Proteus. 

"He wanted to prove that we are all dependent on each other. I proved to myself I was capable of saving myself...and I learned that even those you are supposed to be able to trust will eventually turn on you." 

"That's where you're wrong. You know what it's like to be betrayed by your mentor. I know it would give you pause before you threw me overboard," he said, with some mirth to his tone. 

"I wouldn't throw you overboard, Harry; family members don't betray each other."

* * *

Two weeks into our voyage, I grew restless. I was trapped on a vessel with six 'wives' and soldiers with nothing to do beyond sharpening my blades (which I had completed within the first two days) and sparring on the deck with random soldiers. 

By three weeks, I grew silent. Morose. Time was slipping by slowly and yet quickly at the same time. The waking hours seemed extraordinarily long, but the weeks past quickly. Accents went from deep and heavily colored to that of our homeland. Deserts disappeared and the weather turned tropical and humid. Humidity thinned and the days grew colder. It was winter back home. Deep snow, rain, and bitter cold. Each day that passed, I felt my ill ease growing. Somehow, I knew this would be my last ocean voyage. 

I found myself on the bridge, seated on the railing day after day, reviewing my plan, rehashing memories. Memories and ghosts of the past that were haunting my thoughts. Normally I would distract myself to avoid thinking about the past. My fingers itched for a parchment to read or sketch on, but those were interests Thomas held not Crycus. In close quarters, surrounded by advisors and wives, I was under great scrutiny. Under normal circumstances, I'm sure Crycus would take every opportunity to rub his lifestyle--pagan beliefs included-- on anyone within shouting distance. He would stop at _every_ major port for several days, walking through town with his entourage. Concern for guerilla troops and rumors of growing discord be damned; the Fates choose when to cut his thread not some idiot with a sword. Then again, Crycus never did what was expected which worked in my favor. 

"Brooding again, my Lord?" 

Sorteria eased herself on the banister beside me. Over the months of our captivity, her olive skin had been tanned to a deep brown. She'd taken to pacing the deck seemingly as lost as I as to what to do with herself. For the first time, I began to wonder just what she and the other wives did when in the palace. 

I scowled at her to which she laughed. 

"You might feel better if we stopped somewhere. Had a good meal. A nice, hot bath..." 

I snorted in laughter. She'd given up hinting and came right out and asked. 

"Ranvier is not more than a few hours from here. I'll signal the other ships to stop." 

After a hug of thanks, she left me to my thoughts again.

* * *

"It's an amazing barn." 

"It's just a barn, B'El. Wood and thatch." 

"But it's large enough to house all our animals and supplies. I'm almost glad that old thing didn't weather the storm." 

"My father built that 'old thing.'" 

"True. He might be handy with a sword, but, sadly, not a hammer." 

"Should I mention how convenient it was that my father's old barn fell apart while I was here to do something about it?" 

"What can I say? The Gods were smiling down upon me." 

"Maybe housing Silas in here will put him in a better mood come harvest time." 

B'Elanna turned toward me, jaw dropped in shock. 

"Miral has yet to learn when to reveal the truth and when to keep silent." 

I snorted. 

"Sometimes I think that Silas will be the death of me." 

She said this with a joking tone, but something in the statement didn't sit well. 

"Somehow I doubt that," I replied, wrapping my arms around her and drawing her in for a kiss.

* * *

Ranvier had served as my home for several weeks after I left my home village, Atreus. In all the years that had passed, little had changed save the new tavern near the dock. The town was still mid-sized with homes dotting the edges leading out to the forests surrounded the area-- perfect for training. 

As soon as we pulled into harbor, I announced we would be staying for a week and left them to search for rooms to house my wives and myself--preferably in a different and remote location. 

Within a short span of time, suppliers were spoken to, rooms were found, and night had fallen. With the moon riding high, I left the inn I had booked a room in and made my way down to the 'new' tavern. It was constructed of old ship timbers, and, based on the amount of sound pouring from its interior, it was filled with drunken soldiers. 

I opened the door and was instantly struck with an odd feeling of deja vu. 

Timbers and boards latched in place with peg construction. Y shaped pillars for extra strength, and Z shaped door braces. Girders, grey with exposure, were formed from salvaged ship masts. My eyes locked on the largest one that ran the distance of the tavern. It was splintering with years of use and suddenly I couldn't look anywhere but at it. I couldn't hear the drunken singing or the clop of whores' heels on the floor planks. 

White noise followed by silence. My heart hammered in my chest as my mind fought against itself to keep the imagery at bay. I closed my eyes, willing it away, but it came. The creaking sound of a rope, taunt with weight, swinging its burden like a pendulum. _Her_ face bloated and disfigured. Barely recognizable... 

I turned, stumbling from the barn...bar and down an alley. I lost what little I had to eat that day. 

TBC 


	18. XVIII

  
  
Blood Moon 

**Sydney Alexis**

XVIII

We arrived at the port to find no welcoming committee nor fanfare. In fact, the only people on the docks were the fisherman and workers who eyed our ships wearily. 

I gazed out on the land and the impending tree-line. It looked nothing like a recalled. The land was barren. The people were stony faced, and, even from a great distance, it was entirely possible to see the great temple Solomon was constructing. Conquering land, expounding taxes, and building that temple had been his only interests as of late. 

A thousand different emotions coursed through my veins, but there was one solid message--this place was no longer my homeland. I had none. 

We had docked at the largest northeastern port Solomon's land held; it was the only one equipped to handle a fleet of this size. As a result, my caravan would have to travel by land six and half days to reach the capital--a route that would take us within a stone's throw of Atreus. Somewhere between the Straights and here, I had mentioned this fact to Kathryn. 

With hoots and hollers, Solomon's men began jumping onto the dock, tying off the riggings of each ship, lowering platforms to allow the cargo to unloaded and carried into awaiting wagons. Tuvok ordered my men to do the same as I stood on the deck, looking down at the land I'd left and never intended on returning to. 

Kathryn's hand wove through mine where it rested on the railing, offering wordless support. She turned soft eyes on mine feeling the trembling I was unable to stop. I offered a weak smile in thanks. 

"Doesn't look the way you recall it?" Harry asked, stepping up beside us. 

"No," I replied, quietly. 

"You sound as though you're less than enthused to be here." Not a question. Not a critique. 

"Just amazed the journey's nearly through," I responded cryptically. 

"This voyage perhaps, but I'm sure Solomon won't allow you much time to recoup in the capital city." 

"He'll probably call us in the moment we arrive; he never was one for patience." 

"Aye. Patience--or lack thereof-- and ego were always his weaknesses." 

"Lord Crycus, do you mean for us to put in for the night or begin our path?" Drago called from the dock. 

I looked up at the sky to note the sun's position then returned my gaze to my lieutenant. 

"We'll burn the last of the day just unloading. Might as well put up here in town for the night and start out tomorrow at first light." 

"You sure, milord? We could get a good five to ten miles in before twilight," Harry questioned, seemingly shocked that I would suggest putting off the last leg of the trip. I raised an eyebrow at him not believing that he was openly questioning my command. Then again, this had always been a fault of Harry's--questioning everything. On more than one occasion, his inquisitiveness had led me to rethink long held notions or rethink battle plans. Perhaps lending him my dialogue scrolls had been a wise foresight on my part. 

"Given the choice between the forest and a warm bed, I'll choose to lose a day." 

Harry smirked. "Don't tell me all these years in your palace made you soft," he goaded. 

I laughed humorlessly. "Quiet the opposite. I'm afraid many months with nothing but painfully thin walls between myself and my men have left me desiring some time to my own thoughts." 

It was the truth. If he chose to read it as a double entendre, well, that was his choice. Judging by his tongue in cheek expression, it was taken as just that. 

"Aye. As you wish," he replied, leaving Kathryn and I without further preamble. 

The ship was nearly emptied before I ventured off the boat, and, the moment that I stepped foot on the dock, I felt shaky. Be it from equilibrium not use to steady land or just the raw emotion that assaulted me, I was unsure. My stomach flipped and I fought hard against the bile rising in the back of my throat. This was _HIS_ land. It had been Thomas' at one time. Gods above so much of my naïvaté had been ripped from me on this soil. So much blood and pain and torment. 

I felt a stinging in my eyes--the telltale signs of tears forming--as I walked straight though the city-state, mindless of the stares I was receiving. I kept going until I hit the very edge were buildings and homes melded into forest. Fall was waning. The last leaves were clinging mercilessly to tree limbs, and the scent of the first winter storm was heavy in the air. 

Solomon would have his war in the blanket of winter when there was no cover for his men and lack of heat would lead to frostbitten bodies. What use was it to consider snow and the suffering of troops when the great leader no longer was expected to ride out with his men? 

Solomon's death would only expedite the war. Chieftains from every remaining tribe would use the time Solomon's own knights spent vying for control to slowly slip in and plunder the outlying reaches of land-- chieftains who were still furious over Solomon's actions in building his great temple. 

I knew all of this. I laid it out for Kathryn during a rare moment of solitude while at a port of call. She nodded in all the right places and then asked why I felt compelled to tell her. In truth, it was easier to talk things through with her. She proved to have an amazing ability to see faults in ideas just as Harry did. She never held back in a 'dialogue' even if it meant that we'd end having to take out anger out to the practice fields. That conversation had been one of those rather heated ones… 

'If you wish to evacuate your family, I suggest you take them with you the night that I kill Solomon. Flee to the East or South, but do not stay in his territory.' 

'And what of you?' 

I shrugged. 'If our paths are meant to cross again, they will.' 

'Bullshit. You're just afraid.' 

'No. My task will have been completed.' 

'So you're just going to wait to be arrested and executed?' 

I met her stare evenly, revealing nothing as I turned on my heel and left her in the secluded spot we'd discovered earlier that morning. 

We'd been at Ranvier when we'd had that conversation. The wind had begun to take a slight chill, but the hot summer sun had balanced it out. Here, in Solomon's domain, it was a biting cold that I could feel in my very bones.

* * *

"Da!" Miral shouted from her spot atop B'El's hip. The little girl began squirming to be let down. I managed to dismount before she'd run the short distance down the dock and launched herself into my arms. 

"Missed Da!" 

I cleared my throat, trying to keep the tears at bay; it'd been seven months since I'd last seen my family. Campaigns for land expansion lasted longer than anticipated and word was difficult to get through the lines. 

I straightened to full height, weight shifting heavily to the make-shift cane. I'd been injured on the field--an arrow had pierced my left leg, and the cold of home did little to help its healing. B'Elanna, of course, noticed my slightly pained expression as our little girl tightly hugged my bad leg. B'Elanna's eyes caught mine and, just for a second, I saw the concern there before she squashed it down. I knew that she worried about my safety, and she knew that I hated to see her fussing over my like a mother rather than a wife. 

Without a word, she scooped up Miral and looped her arm around my waist to offer support without being obvious. Little things like this made me love her even more. 

"I'm glad you're home," she smiled brightly. "I have quite a list of things for you to mend." 

We walked to our carriage and returned home. The entire time she never mentioned the campaigns. Instead, she caught me up on the daily lives of the members of our family and friends. Normalcy is what I needed...craved after what I'd been through.

* * *

We marched in a line, silently, resolutely. I was sure that my sudden bouts of insomnia were causing hallucinations; everywhere we rode I could see my family. I idly wondered if the Furies had chosen to make me mad in my final campaign. 

The 'visions'...specters grew in intensity until the third night where, by design or pure coincidence, we made camp less than a candlemark from Atreus. 

I sat beside the fire, looking into the distance at the hill that made the ancient boundary of Atreus. No, I silently corrected, it was where Atreus had once been. 

The guard towers had long ago crumbled and not a single cooking smell rose into the night air. My eyes followed the pile of stones that had once been these towers to a shadowy tree and beyond. Just outside of view, on the other side of the crest, was a narrow path that lead to the fishing hole I'd taught my daughter to swim in. The place I'd taken B'El to propose. The spot we'd say our private goodbyes before I would return to duty. 

I think she brought me there not only to make it a private matter but also because she _knew_ without words how much it tore me apart to leave her behind. To make her wait for months or years for my return all the while she would continue on with her life wondering if I was still alive, raising our child on her own. I'd feel selfish for trapping her into this life. How different would her life have been if I'd served my required time in the service and returned to being a farmer? Would she still be alive? 

I rose from my perch and wove through the activity of setting up camp. Constance caught my arm and stopped me. 

"My lord? Surely you don't plan on strolling about at night?" 

I smiled weakly at her. 

"I know this area well. I won't become lost." 

She nodded. "I'd feel better if you took some men with you." 

I scoffed at the idea. I was perfectly capable at taking care of myself. "I don't need a babysitter, love." 

She opened her mouth to speak, but I stopped her. 

"If I'm not back by sun-up, you can send the scouts. Until then, let me have some time to myself." 

She nodded in understanding, and I walked away feeling slightly guilty. On some level, Constance cared for me, but she also had her own life to consider. Were I to die, she would be seen as the concubine of a knight. Not being the favored or first married would leave her few ways of supporting herself none of which would be pleasant. 

Taking a deep breath, I left camp and walked straight until I crested the southeastern hill and looked down into the ruined valley; Atreus was a ghost town. 

The buildings were dilapidated. Wooden structures were falling in on themselves while others were gutted by fire. Fields once reserved for farming were overgrown with weeds and tall grass. 

I continued walking straight, following the overgrown path that lead to the center of town and the centralized oven we'd used to prepare meats for barter and pay. The place I'd discovered my neighbors burning over heated coals. Even now some ash remained. Not permitting myself from thinking about it, I followed the path to the right--straight to B'El and I's home. The house and barn were gone-- stones serving as the only marker of where they had once stood. I had to wonder if this was Harry's handiwork. 

The ground surrounds were lush, deep, and green save one, large rectangular patch where the Earth was devoid of all life. It was here that I sank to my knees. Here that I felt the grief of my return and their death. Here that the visions and sadness of time lost and poorly spent rolled through my body. For the first time in an era, I _felt_ their presence. Warm and welcoming, loving and, oddly enough, _alive_. The tears that had threatened me all week finally spilled over, but I was beyond caring.

* * *

It was damn near frigid the night I arrived back in Atreus. My horse was half dead from frostbite, and I suspect that I was well on my way there when I crested the top of the hill. The falling snow was driving down relentlessly, clinging into folds of my cloak. The flakes had ceased melting hours ago--a sure sign that my body was dangerously below temperature. 

Harry had tried to convince me to stay in Humberside with him. The pink sunset, the rapidly dropping temperature, and the sight of animals all heading for cover were sure signs of an impending storm, but, after several months away from home, I was determined. So, with my soldiers unloaded the booty we'd taken on our latest campaign, I gathered my horse and a few days' worth of provisions and took off for Atreus with barely a word. 

A week's travel time grew to ten days as Sheba and I fought our way through the cold, densely packed snow, but we continued. I think my horse realized how desperate I was to return home. 

Instinctively knowing that this valley was my home, Sheba's pace increased tenfold as I pointed her toward home. The streets were desolate as she clopped past homes brightly lit with fire. 

I couldn't help but notice that the snow was purely white rather than dotted with the pink tinge of blood which had proven to be a common sight in our mê lée in the frozen north. 

I ushered my horse into the barn, grateful that B'El had had the presence of mind to fuel the small pot belly stove to keep the animals alive. I removed Sheba's saddle and bridle, and placed her heavy blanket on her back to protect her from the cold. She snorted in thanks before I turned and left for my home. 

My boots sank deeply into the snow covered ground as I trudged toward the front door. The added weight of my battle armor made my trek even more difficult. 

Finally, I arrived at the awning above our door, shaking the hood of my cloak to free the excess flakes before opening the door. 

And what a sight greated me! B'Elanna was curled up in the old rocking chair holding a small infant against her, singing in a low whisper. The moment I stepped through the door, her head shot up, mouth drawing into a broad smile. 

"You're home," she said, softly. 

Her eyes followed me as I unclasped my cloak, removing it and my boots. 

"And you're full of surprises," I replied, sinking down to my knees to favor her and my child with a kiss. 

"She was born while you were in Fjörðr. There was no way for me send word." 

B'Elanna must have seen my face darken at the mention of my 'trip' because her hand reached up to cup my face. I bit my tongue. She and I had an unspoken agreement that I would never speak of the wars I'd seen; she couldn't bare to think of me killing. 

"I've missed you." 

Said so quietly. Said more often than it should be. I'd missed the birth of my child...my first born at that. My eyes darted between her and the small child in her arms. My heart was beating wildly in my chest. I was a father. I'd been away eleven months and, before I'd been called back, B'El and I had had only two weeks together. Sometime during that homecoming, she had conceived, and Solomon's wrath had seen to it that I missed her pregnancy and the birth of my child. 

"Would you like to hold her?" 

I nodded not trusting my voice. The moment B'El set our daughter in my arms I fell instantly in love. Holding her made all the pain seem to lessen. 

"I named her Miral." 

I nodded absently, stroking my well calloused thumb against the incredibly smooth skin on our child's cheek. Awe. That was the only way I could describe what I was feeling. 

"She's beautiful." 

It slipped from my lips without thought as did the tears. Funny that I could watch friends fall in battle and never mourn their death with tears but this small being could invoke such a powerful reaction. Maybe I wasn't as dead as I felt I'd become in those killing fields. 

B'Elanna smiled sadly at me, resting her hand on the crown of Miral's head. 

"Why don't you change out of those wet clothes, let me fix you something to eat?" 

It was a suggestion spoken with hesitancy. It was then that I realized I was in snow sodden clothes and blood stained armor. No matter how much she missed me, B'El would always shy away from touching me when I was dressed as a warrior. 

Reluctantly, I handed our child back to her and walked to our bedroom to hide away the too painful reminders of my calling. 

I was with B'El less than a month when I was forced to don my uniform again.

* * *

The moon was riding high before I returned to camp l felling more resolute than I had hours before. 

I slipped into my tent and fell into a dreamless sleep. My charade was nearly finished. I would need the energy to see it through to completion whatever the outcome. 

A/N: I'd like to thank all of you who have taken the time to feedback this story. I appreciate it. :) 

As to the question of updating, I tend to update at my website and JuPiter Station more than here. I generally log in to update en mass. However, since I tend to get more FB from readers, I plan to keep up updating here on a regular basis. 

As to the question of number of chapters I plan on having-- I'm not sure. The outline that I penciled out reads for a total of 30 or so chapters. However, I have a tendency to deviate from plans if the muse strikes me.


	19. XIX

  
  
Blood Moon  
Sydney Alexis  
XIX

"Daddy? Are you sure you've got me?"

"Yes, poppet. I promise. I won't let you go."

Miral was lying on her back, floating in the water. Her head was turned towards mine, eyes wide with fear. She was trying to coordinate her legs to kick through the water while worrying that I would remove my stabilizing hand on her back-- the same hand she was convinced were holding her afloat.

Although I knew she was scared--her big expressive eyes and the trembling beneath my hand giving her away-- she was still determined to learn how to swim; she didn't want to appear weak in front of me. Gods above! I couldn't have been prouder of her.

"That's it, love. Just like walking. One leg and then the other."

"I still don't see how this is sup'sed to work, Papa. You always swim with your belly in the water."

I smiled broadly. She was growing so comfortable in this position that she was busy puzzling out the process.

"Aye. But I'm a fair bit larger than you, love."

"But you're not like the fish at the bottom of the lake; you can't breath water."

"It's just a matter of coordinating your arms, legs, and breathing, bit. And, from the looks of it, you've already got the legs down pat."

"I do?" She questioned, looking down at her legs.

"Yeah. Now we've got to work on the breathing."

"You mean for me to turn over?" Big eyes suddenly locking on mine.

"It's simple. You'll turn on your belly and just float. When you need air, turn your head to the side, take it in, and go back to floating."

She paused, looking into my face. This was the worst part of learning to swim--trusting yourself to take in air when needed it and getting past the terror of not having air immediately available.

"You promise you won't let go, Papa?" Her lower lip trembling.

"I promise, poppet. I've got you. I won't let you slip."

She nodded, turning slowly so that her stomach was now floating on the water's surface.

The hand beneath Miral's belly moved to the back of her neck, holding her down in the water. She struggled against the firm grasp, arms flailing. Moments ticked by. The struggling lessened and then ceased. It was then that I noticed my hands had morphed into that of Crycus'--complete with ornate rings. The image in the water, however, was my face.

I awoke, gasping for breath. Throwing the heavy animal skins aside, I sat up on our sleeping pallet, willing the trembling to stop. In an instant, Kathryn was behind me drawing comforting circles on my back. Neither of us spoke.

This had happened before.

It would happen again.

* * *

The next morning, I awoke, ate breakfast, and mounted my horse--all without saying more than a handful of monosyllabic responses to my men. I rode in front of the column with Tuvok and Harry flanking either side. Behind me, above the den of the shifting of metal armor and heavily booted footfalls of the army, I overheard Sorteria and Constance discussing my odd mood in hushed tones and felt Kathryn's eyes burning into me. I knew that she was more than curious as to my sudden morose behavior and it was only a matter of time before she cornered me. She had the good decency to wait until we'd set up camp for the night to pull me aside.

I escorted her on a walk along a nearby river, cautioning her wordlessly not to mention anything serious until we arrived at our destination--a hidden away cave. After ensuring that we hadn't been followed, I motioned her deep into the water-made crevasse. Sitting down on the rocks, I finally allowed myself to show the weariness of this trip. She sat beside so that we were close but not touching.

"I suppose if I asked you what was wrong you would simply tell me you were tired and ask me to drop the subject."

I turned to her, and I suppose the look in my eyes startled her.

"They're haunting me, pet."

"Your family?"

I nodded, biting my lip to stop the tears that were threatening to spill.

"We're in our homeland. Last night we were right beside your polis. It's only natural that you'd be having nightmares. In fact, if you weren't I _would_ be worried."

I shook my head. "It's not just that," I paused, watching her brow knit in confusion. "I've seen things...heard things."

I watched her lips form a thin line at this statement, and I stopped myself before an explanation. The truth of the matter was, as our fleet had cut a swath through the ocean, I could have sworn I had seen dark figures moving through the trees ashore. Rather than raising my hackles as a scout would, this 'vision' was more ambivalent.

As the days passed the sightings would grow in number, and, more often than not, they would occur during daylight.

Now, as we followed the ancient paths carved into the land, they grew in intensity and length. Whispers of movement in my peripheral vision became specters with color and sound. Small figures--one dark haired, one light, were seen weaving through trees. Voices were added on the second day ashore. I swore I could hear Miral's peels of laughter and B'El's answering voice.

On that day, when we stopped for lunch, I had taken off by foot through the thicket, trying to find the children that I had seen playing.

As the space between where the nearest polis was located and our location on the foot trail lengthened, I began to realize what they --these 'children'--were. My suspicions were confirmed the night before as I visited Atreus.

"You haven't been sleeping well for months. You're up at all hours pacing, re-reading her notes to you."

Ever so logical. And true, I hadn't been sleeping more than an hour or so before a nightmare would grip me. Dreams and memories of my family life would twist into something macabre. I'd see myself teaching Miral to swim one moment, and, the next, Crycus' hand holding her beneath the water...the handiwork that morphed into my own.

I never told Kathryn any of this, but, based on her reaction to me as she roused me yet again, I could only guess that she had sussed out what I had dreamt about.

"Are they just hallucinations? Or are the Furies trying to drive me mad? After everything I've done..."

"You've killed no more than any other warrior."

"The gods are fickle..."

"But you have always had their favor."

I closed my eyes. "Then why do I keep seeing her? Hearing her voice? Her laughter?"

I hated the catch in my voice. Hated the look on Kathryn's face when I opened my eyes. The concern there. I gave voice to the words we were both thinking.

"I'm coming unhinged, love."

There were tears in her eyes as she wove her arms around me, dragging herself to me. She held me so close I wasn't sure if it was her or I that was shaking. It only grew more intense when she whispered into my ear.

"I've got you, Thomas. I won't let you slip."

I pulled back from her, nodding my head because, at this point, I didn't trust my voice.

I wove my hands through her hair and brought her lips to mine. The kiss was soft, comforting, and exactly what I needed.

* * *

"Are you sure about this, Thomas?" B'El asked fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. "I am but a farmer's daughter, after all. I am not nearly as educated in the ways of the court as a man of your position is accustomed to having."

She'd repeated this fact to me forty different ways since I had asked her to accompany me to the palace to meet the king. It was standard of a knight to receive the king's blessing for an upcoming marriage.

I stopped us both just outside the antechamber to the throne room. Even dressed in a borrowed frock that was out-of-date with current court fashions (she generally spent more time in a tunic and pants despite the disapproving murmurs from our polis' women) and hair slightly out of place from the long ride, she was a vision.

I cupped her cheek lightly, forcing her eyes to meet mine. "I love you," I said, simply. "If he doesn't approve of you, then you and I will tell him where he can stuff his opinion because _I will not give you up for anyone._"

The last said a little forcefully. I knew this from the sudden stiffness in her spine and the way that she bit her lower lip. I softened my tone before continuing.

"You're my always. Do you understand me, love?"

It was schmaltzy and I would deny saying it if any of my men were in the room, but this suddenly too vulnerable hellcat had stolen my heart and I would be damned if she was going to feel out of place in front of court members that would soon be of equal or lesser status than she. I was rewarded with a breathtaking smile as her hand found mine, fingers weaving together in a perfect fit.

"Besides, I can guarantee that the king will be as taken with you as I am."

"Ah. Does that mean you'll be spending he whole night trying to fend him off of me."

She smiled that conspiratorial smile of hers that she wore when I was bound to be in trouble soon, and I breathed a sigh of relief. She was back to feeling like fighter that she was. Offering her a smile, I took her elbow and lead her toward the massive wooden door.

"I swear to protect you, my lady," I deadpanned as we entered.

* * *

As we traveled toward the palace, my ears were filled with tales of Solomon's new paranoia. Taverns were filled with bards telling tales of double agents, trying and killing competent generals at the mere rumbling that they were thinking of defecting, and clearing out a huge portion of the vegetation near the palace to allow for sparring land and to avoid giving cover to guerrilla forces. So too were the murmurings of the commoners contemplating revolting. How had my former homeland come to this? Dreary and desolate and filled with angry helots.

The moment we passed through the clearing of trees and into the barren land surrounding his stone walls, I felt my stomach begin to churn with fears. I loosened my clasp on my horses' reigns and let her slow to a leisurely pace. Tuvok and Harry slowed to match.

A full candlemark from the gate, _HIS_ coat of arms became visible on two broad banners than hung on either side of the gated entrance.

Half a candlemark from the gate, just as I began to make out the Latin written beneath his crest-- the words of which he had changed when his heart had been turned to the One God-- Kathryn led her horse up between mine and Tuvok's. I watched her squint her eyes against the afternoon's sun to read the words I had long ago learned.

"'_Nemo...me impune lacessit?_' That can't be right," she said, turning toward myself and Harry for confirmation.

"Aye, pet. It is. Sort of his law code."

I heard a bark of laughter a moment later from Ria. She and Constance appeared beside Kathryn.

"Has a bit of an ego, doesn't he?" She said, motioning toward the crest.

"What does it say?" Neelix asked, and I suddenly recalled that, while an accomplished fighter, he was barely literate in his own tongue let alone that of this foreign king.

"No one goes unpunished who provokes me," I said, softly.

Not another word was spoken until we rode through the front gate.

TBC

* * *

A/N: First and foremost thank you to all the people that have taken the time to feedback this story. I really do appreciate it, and I will take all of your comments/suggestions under advisement when I go back and edit this beast. (when the entire thing is finished)  
  
Latin phrase on Solomon's coat of arms is a literary allusion to one of my favorite tales-- Edgar Allan Poe's "The Cask of Amontillado." If you haven't read it, it's well worth to time. 


	20. XX

  
  
Blood Moon **  
** Sydney Alexis**  
** XX

We'd ridden in near dead silence. He'd told me not to speak to him after we'd started on our path that morning. It was as if the sound of my voice brought him pain. My father's shoulders were tall and squared in that way my mother said always meant he was unhappy. The warning symbols were flashing through my mind, and I felt my stomach churn. My father only acted like this when there was trouble coming. I ventured to speak my thoughts aloud.

"Pop?"

"Aye."

"I'll not see the farm again, will I?"

His head shot in my direction, a shocked registered on his face. I suppose he hadn't considered that I would ever be this forthright.

"You may yet, Thomas. You may yet."

"So you mean not to simply take me on a supply gathering trip? You mean for me to stay?"

The pieces had all fit together--Momma's look of sadness when I saddled the horses, Grandpa gifting me with his battle sword, Grandma's basket filled with my favorite cookies, the tears in all their eyes as I set off behind Poppa with me seated on our best ride. The set of my father's shoulders and the fact that he hadn't referred to me with any form of endearment were the final clues.

"No, Thomas. You are far too gifted with a sword to spend your lifetime working the fields."

"You mean for me to enter the service of the king then?"

"If you survive your training and are chosen to join the brotherhood. Aye."

"And if I would rather stay and help you and Momma on the farm?"

"You've got no choice in the matter. You never did. It was all Ares' choice."

"But--"

"But nothing," he said, pulling his horse to a stop. He turned, face flushed with anger upon me. "You were meant to do great things Thomas Paris, and I will not have you squandering your gift on working a plow. _Is. That. Clear?"_

"Aye. You've chosen to forfeit my life to that of the crown and I have no choice but to follow your wishes," I paused as I watched the words sink in, his eyes growing dangerously dark.

"How many pieces of extra land were you able to grab up by trading in your only son, _Father_?" I ground out.

My father hauled off and slapped me across the cheek. His chest was heaving with anger as he pulled back. An uncomfortable silence settled upon us as he straightened in his saddle. He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Sometimes you have to do what is in your best interest," he said in explaination.

"And a true man would _never_ forget that it is his family that keeps him and sustains him. Blood...family are the only ones who give a damn if you continue to draw breath even when you're old and weary and unable to hold a sword."

His eyes narrowed. "Either you come back on your shield or not at all, Thomas," he replied, turning his horse and heading for home.

I was forced to find my own way through the forest path that lead to the capital. My mind kept going over what my father had just suggested--he'd rather see his seven year old son dead with honor than alive and refusing the path he had chosen for me. The sting of his slap felt like nothing compared to the pain in my chest. My father had abandoned me.

* * *

He didn't look like I expected. Like I remembered. Years away, building him up in my mind as a monster, and, somehow, he just looked like an incredibly tiny, frail man. Older than I thought possible. The lines on his face were deeper that I recalled-- especially around his eyes and mouth. The latter, no doubt, from holding a smoking a pipe one too many times. Jowls hung loosely off his once noble chin. Bags were clearly present beneath his red-rimmed eyes. Crows feet at the corners of his eyes. Worn, empty eyes that had faced one too many battles.

He stood with some difficulty, weight heavily balanced on a walking staff. The same stick he once used on me when I'd grown cocky at my ability. He would approach me from behind _during_ a match and hit the back of my knees, forcing me to the ground.

"Never forget that no one will be there to watch your back in battle," he had said, having a deep laugh.

"Only a man with no honor or respect for the rules of conduct would injure a dueling man," I replied with no title, no bow, and no sign of respect.

His stick came down again, connecting with my skull. When I awoke, I was in the stockade.

Yet another example of why I hated Solomon.

I entered the room accompanied by Harry only. We both walked the prerequisite number of steps into Solomon's war room before pausing to bow deeply.

"Crycus, you pagan bastard, you've been here less than a candlemark and have already caused a stir among my priestans."

I stood once again to my full height, not waiting for his permission.

"Such a warm welcome to you too, Your Highness."

He snorted before motioning up both forward.

"Has Harry managed to brief you on our current status?"

"About the war? To some extent. However, his information was out-of-date by the time that he arrived to fetch myself and my army."

"Aye. Right you are. Always such a smart one. Even if you are a smarmy pagan."

"I resent that remark. I might be a pagan, but I seek only to please myself. Should you profit from _my_ good fortune, than so be it."

The King cackled heartily.

"I've missed your wit, friend," he said, throwing his arm around my shoulder. The moment that contact was made, I was forced to roll my hands into fists. Despite a room full of guards and advisors, it would be _so_ simple to kill the bastard, but I had to figure out _exactly_ what he had been up to all these years. Truth be told, this little scheme had become about more than just killing the Solomon. I wanted _revenge._ I wanted him to be humiliated and abandoned and hated.

Whoosh, thud, whoosh, thud. My blood was _pounding_ through my ears and chest. The demon within me was fighting to come to fore. A small but familiar voice began to taunt me with its mantra--kill him. Gods above how I needed to keep calm! A slip out now would out my true identity.

"How go the wars in my absence, milord?" Harry asked quietly, and I was suddenly beyond glad of his presence.

"Not as well as I had hoped. Since you managed to kill Proteus, I can't very well contract him to kill the Lord of Tritheria. Even if he is in desperate need of a good killing."

"Proteus has been doing your dirty work, eh?" I said in a neutral tone; I had suspected this all along.

"Aye. I managed to convince him that generals and warlord in my way were connected to his friend, Thomas' death," he replied with a hint of a smirk. "Proved rather easy, all things considered."

"And you sent him to me?" I said, eyebrow raising. Solomon believed them friends? I wondered how the story had amalgamated into making Proteus and Thomas friends when I had tried to set it up as one killing the other.

"It was time, I'm afraid. He'd been led to you, and it was only a matter of time before he figured out my connection to those rather... unpleasant events."

I bit the inside of my mouth so hard I drew blood. The smug tone with which he threw out that comment. I wanted to back him against the nearest wall and crush his windpipe with my bare hands. Feel the bones of his throat give way. Watch his mouth gap open as he gasped for breath and his eyes redden with broken blood vessels. To discuss his brutal actions so flippantly...as my family's life meant nothing.

"Because Proteus has been 'disbatched,' I take it you summoned me and mine to take care of this little problem in Tritheria."

"And you would be thinking correctly."

"Why not just send one of your own knights to handle the situation?"

Solomon took up his goblet, and slunk down into his throne. "I've sent people. Knights, armies. The most that returns is their general's head with a note through its eye."

I was glad for the wrap because I surely wouldn't have been able to hide the smile playing across my features.

"And the note said?"

"It's unimportant," he said, drowning a gulp.

"No. You're mistaken. You sent for me to fix this 'little' problem of yours. In order to do that, I need to know as much about the target as you can tell me."

"The first said: 'You provoked me. I punished your men.' The second read: 'How many more will fall over your petty pride?' The final read--"

"Sir Harold, you forget your place. Lord Crycus directed the question to me not you."

"Aye, Your Highness. I apologize for speaking out of turn," he said, lowering his head and taking a step back as was requisite.

"And I believe his Highness to be ashamed of the last."

"It was merely a libelous barb."

"Ah. I see," I replied, slipping to the seat opposite of the king. I turned toward Harry.

"What can you tell me of this polis' defenses?"

Tritheria was built on a bluff. It is approachable only on one pathway that was sliced through the terrain by their elders. Each of the founders wished to seclude themselves after the war and saw to it that the city-state was self-sufficient in addition to being difficult to ambush.

I had visited Tritheria in my youth--many years before I was knighted. I recalled the walls were built solid with stones so closely laid it was impossible to slip a dagger's blade between it. It was rumored that Egyptian slaves assisted in its building. It was, however, impossible to know if Crycus had ever been there.

"The entire polis is surrounded by an enormous wall that had six guard towers--one at each corner and two on either side of the draw bridge."

"Draw bridge?"

"Aye. There is a river that leads to a waterfall off the cliff face. It creates a natural moat of sorts."

I'd recalled the river. I'd been absolutely terrified to cross the rickety old bridge that spanned the distance (a bridge that would cave into the water mere months after our visit), but my Master had insisted. Of course, he had ordered me to cross before him. He'd claimed it was for me to prove I was a man of character. In actuality, I think he wanted to be certain he would be able to cross and live.

"Let me guess; the river is too deep to wade through and too close to the tower to use logs for crossing without being spotted."

"Aye."

I started laughing outright. That left few options--send in an assassin or send in someone under a banner of peace.

"I hardly think this situation is laughable, Crycus," Solomon said, eyes narrowing.

"I'm inclined to agree save the absurdity of it all. It sounds as though they wish nothing more than to be left alone. Their land is worthless to you."

"They are on _my_ land. They are _my_ people. They have yet to pay their taxes or send men to work on the temple or serve in the army."

I sighed. It was a matter of hurt pride.

"I take it they still follow the many gods?"

"Aye," Solomon said, face growing sour as he said this. He didn't seem to care he was consulting with two pagans.

"What say I go there and offer up my land against their land in an Exhibition then?" I queried.

"Your prowess with a sword must be great to believe you could simply walk into Tritheria and gamble your land on **one** duel," Solomon said, laughter filled his voice. "Besides, I've heard of your battle injury. That even now one arm is nearly useless."

The king was unwilling to place such pricey land up for grabs. Fear and greed seemed to be his motivating factor a great deal lately.

"Rumors are merely half-truths whispered between servants and distorted into fanciful tales. It is only when the exaggeration comes to play that they gain Master's ear," I countered, voice like steel.

"That is not what our information tells us."

I smiled at him, not believing his stupidity.

"Information gathered by an informant who spent more time on a boat than on the practice fields watching my swordplay. And, while we are on the subject, Your Majesty, do you distrust me so much that you felt it necessary to send _spies_ to my camp?"

He had the good sense to look guilty.

"Of course I would never stoop to such tactics. I was merely repeating what was heard."

"If you trust is so low in me, Majesty, perhaps a local Exhibition game? This time, perhaps _you_ can face me."

He laughed nervously.

"I am too old for such things. My champion, Harold, however,...he would make an excellent sparring partner."

I felt Harry stiffen beside me, clearly unhappy with the newest change of events.

"A most excellent idea, Majesty. When shall I announce the match?" This was said by a nameless, idiot attendant whom I had almost forgotten was in the room.

"When Crycus returns from Tritheria."

"You wish me to go?"

"Yes, but not alone. You must make the appearance of normalcy. Select your attendants. You will leave at first light."

"Aye, Majesty, " I said, bowing deeply and moving toward the door. His voice stopped me.

"And Crycus?"

I turned quickly, eyebrow raised. Being stopped mid-exit was never a good thing.

"Take Harold with you."

Solomon was as easy to manipulate as I believed him to be.

* * *

Partially out of morbid curiosity and partially to reassess the palace through the experienced eyes of an assassin, I found myself wandering the halls of his palace. I found room after room that drove up a trove of memories--the dinner party Solomon had held to announce my engagement, kneeling in the throne room to be knighted, the feeling of pride I'd felt the first time Harry managed to unseat me in a joust.

This place had been so much a part of my soul. It had seen my highest highs and my soundest of thrashings save one, and yet I couldn't help but feel like an interloper. Even if the decor hadn't changed over the years, the _feel_ of the place had. It was as if all the joy had been sucked from it. Then again maybe I was projecting.

I stopped in front of my old quarters, drawing my hand against the wood. The action filled me with an incredible since of longing. Desire to return to that chapter in my life. I'd been happy then. The giddy youth that stood in the garden here at the palace and held and an impromptu hand fasting with his wife. The foolish man that had held his infant daughter in his arms and dreamed of teaching her to swim and garden and standing witness to her hand fasting. I'd been the type of man that thought that he had the god's favor...and his king's.

"Thomas?"

The voice behind me called as a warm hand was placed on my shoulder. I turned toward the sound seeing Kathryn standing there expectantly. She always did have an eerie ability to know exactly where I was.

"Aye?" I asked, dropped my hand from the door.

"You ready to go back to the room?"

I nodded mutely letting her take me by the hand and guide me towards our guest quarters.

"How did your meeting go?"

"His Majesty requested I got to Tritheria to punish them," I carefully worded mindful that we might be overheard.

"What did they do?"

I favored her with a hard look. Did the king really need an excuse to do what he did?

"Refusal to pay tribute...to him. Of not partaking of their duties to the kingdom."

Her eyes narrowed.

"There's more to this than you are telling me." A beat. "You aren't planning on standard pattern for dealing with them, are you?"

'Standard pattern?' Such a lovely euphemism for murdering all the men of the city-state and taking the woman and children as slaves. It had been done before. It would be done again.

"No."

"Then what is it?"

I sighed, motioning for her to follow me into our room, locking the door behind me. I motioned for her to remain quiet while I did a sweep of the room insuring that no one had hidden in the recesses while we were out. When I was sufficiently sure that the place was clear, I ripped Crycus' veil from my face and sat woodenly on the bed.

This 'game' was exhausting. Nearly a year of being 'on' at all times. My only reprieves were times like these--hiding away in my chambers or all too brief moments when I snuck out, donning a new persona to do so.

"Solomon asked me to take Harry and a small troupe of advisors with him."

"And you're worried you'll slip up?"

I nodded; it was partially true.

"I'm to face the Lord to try and broker some form of agreement with a minimum of bloodshed."

"Which is Solomon-speak for go in, and, if they refuse, commit mass genocide."

I lowered my head only somewhat relieved that she knew the score. One less thing that I would have to lie to her about.

"I've taken this type of mission on in the past." I started, not realizing I was speaking my thoughts aloud until I felt her stiffen beside me. "A few times in fact."

I offered her a weak smile knowing that there was nothing I could say to soften the blow of what I had just revealed. She nodded absently, turning her head away from me for a long moment. I was ordered to take the actions that I did. Orders that, if I refused, would lead to my own death and that of those that I loved. Solomon always was one for making examples of people.

"So you'll go to Tritheria, and what? Convince them to just hand over their taxes? Send men to fight in Solomon's campaign? What?"

I shook my head. I'd forgotten that her gender kept her from being exposed to the depths of evils of mankind. "Remember Solomon's credo?"

She nodded; she'd been the one to call attention to it on the coat of arms.

"His standard modus operandi is to make men suffer," I explained, seeing the flash of understanding and then sympathetic look in her eyes.

"He'll send me there to empty their coffers, strip them bare of all food, salt their land, poison their water, and kill their leaders. He'll have us occupy them long enough to do all of this and stand guard over their leaders' bodies until their flesh is ripe and the souls of those killed will be so lost in the aether between our plane and Elysian Fields," I started, watching her eyes grow wide.

"He'll keep us there until the people are so mad out of grief and hunger that they are brought to their knees--literally and figuratively. He will tell us to wait until they are begging from thirst and then he'll order us to cut them down."

Kathryn's hand clutched at my thigh, eyes searching mine. "Thomas, tell me you aren't going to do this. Tritheria is filled with men that have served their time to the kingdom. They've fulfilled their debt."

"Aye, but they've not sent tribute and Solomon perceived that as an act of impudence."

"What are you going to do?"

"I haven't decided yet," I said, shrugging.

"Surely you've planned for this. Harry must have mentioned this," she started, searching my face for confirmation.

"He did, and I thought that I had, but things are never as simplistic as all that."

She paused, eyes narrowing as she sought answers I wasn't entirely prepared to give her.

"You're worried that he'll find you out? That he'll turn you over to the king?"

I turned, eyes darkening. This was something that I didn't want to consider. The Harry I knew would never do such a thing to his Master. However, Harry hadn't a clue to my identity. Add to that the complication that he was the king's champion...

"What does your gut tell you?"

"To feel him out. See where his loyalties lie. To use our time en route to Tritheria to reveal my identity to him, leave him in the dark..." I let my voice trail off.

"...or kill him," Kathryn said in a small voice. It was an alternative I didn't want to consider.

I paused, running my hands through my hair.

"I told the Solomon I'd offer a match to the Lord of Tritheria--me against his champion. Winner takes all. Put up my land against his," I said in reply to her earlier question of what my plan was.

"What was the King's reply?"

"The idea shocked him. It's not a typical Crycus move," I said, pausing to consider if I should tell her about the rest of Solomon, Harry, and I's conversation. "I think he would prefer a lengthy occupation; it would give him time to see to it that whatever plans he has against me would have time to come to fruition."

"And what might be planning?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, pet. I could be anything. My guess, however, is that he's planning on setting up the 'perfect' Exhibition Match for my return."

"Exhibition Match? Are you sure?"

She blinked, I had not doubt that she recalled such a game had not been held in our homeland since the days before the one God.

"Exhibitions are only held for two reasons--to challenge a king to his crown and to honor Ares," she reasoned.

"And?"

"And only one person leaves the ring alive."

I shrugged not wanting her to see how much the idea was affecting me.

"And, after killing the king's former champion, the title fell to Harry."

Kathryn paused in her speech. Her hands were on her hips, eyebrow raised. She was waiting for me to suss out her unasked question, but, sensing I was not about to broach the topic, she rolled the topic forward.

"Do you really _want_ to kill Harry?"

"If that's what it takes to finish this," I replied all the while feeling the bile rise in my throat.

"He's an innocent. Your blood oath was never against him."

"My oath was against those that worked for Solomon. He _knew_ what the king had done. He _knows_ what the old man was capable of. Any friend of my enemy..."

"You don't believe that! Not that long ago you told me that you loved him like family."

"He's fighting on the wrong side," came me biting response.

"Maybe he never got the opportunity to see the 'right ' side. Maybe he's trying to fight the power from within--"

"Maybe he's completed his training and has become the perfect replacement for Thomas," I interjected.

"Or maybe he's just as lost as you are." It was said with such a soft voice, but the words cut through my resolve like steel.

TBC

* * *

A/N: Because I have a paper to write, a midterm to study for, and a number of projects all coming to head, the next installment might take some time. My graduate level classes have to come first, and, although I plan on writing during the next few weeks to deal with stress (and just procrastinate in general), it might be a little while before I have anything coherent enough to post.  
  
I apologize in advance and thank you for your patience.  



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